


Sky of a Tree Called Life

by RaceUlfson



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist
Genre: Mpreg
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-03-09
Updated: 2012-06-02
Packaged: 2017-11-01 16:32:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 24,275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/358957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RaceUlfson/pseuds/RaceUlfson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How far will you go for a friend? When you say you will do anything, do you mean it? Mpreg</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Once upon a time there was a discussion about male pregnancy fics and Ed Elric and Roy Mustang. I felt that Ed, if he somehow got pregnant, would make the best of it and keep the baby. After all, Ed worked hard to spare the lives of people who were actively trying to kill him at the time. He'd have to give an unborn innocent a chance. Roy, however, is a seasoned soldier and an ambitious and practical man. If he got pregnant, he'd have that invasive growth aborted and removed immediately. Unless... he had a reason to want the baby. And thus, this fic evolved. 
> 
> I should say also that it is a work in progress but that it was started well before the end of the manga. I tried weaving in some canon plot points as they came up, but finally I had to just accept that this is an AU.

The Sky of a Tree Called Life

 

Chapter 1

 

here is the deepest secret nobody knows  
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud  
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life; which grows  
higher than soul can hope or mind can hide)  
and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart  
i carry your heart (i carry it in my heart)  
-ee cummings

 

God help him, when Roy had answered the telephone and heard Elysia's tearful voice, he'd actually smiled. He couldn't help it, her childish predicaments were always so adorably easy to fix. 

In the years since Maes had - since they lost Maes, Roy Mustang and Alex Armstrong had tried to fill a tiny portion of the void Maes Hughes had left behind. Admittedly, Alex was much better at the basic Hughes stuff of attending every school play and music recital and applauding even the most abysmal efforts. The Elric brothers had stepped up, too, once their own quest was completed, and the two of them and Miss Rockabell handled most of the physical labors needed about a house and home - repainting the exterior, installing a new furnace and central heating system, braving the spiders in the attic to bring down holiday decorations.

Roy's contributions were in the more behind the scenes things; he supplemented and manipulated Maes' investments and savings to ensure Gracia and Elysia had a steady, if not exalted, income. He invented reasons for the girls to visit Miss Rockabell in Rush Valley when it wasn't safe to stay in Central. He made sure their street was cleared when it snowed. He casually mentioned to Alphonse Elric the Hughes' roof needed replacing, to Edward that Elysia was flunking maths, to Alex that Gracia had always wanted an electric sewing machine. 

Over the years Roy had also become Elysia's confidant, the adult she turned to for parental advice when she was afraid to ask her mother. Or needed something alchemically repaired on the QT, like a prized vase. "Because you are the best at keeping secrets, Uncle Roy."

Being Maes' girl, Elysia tended to over react, bouncing from boundless joy to the depths of despair, and most of her problems were entirely in her head. It amused Roy no end to solve 'my life is over and I'm going to have to move to Xing and live in a ditch' type social crises with a cherry phosphate and a little pin money. 

So, after 13 years, when Elysia Hughes said brokenly over the telephone, "Uncle Roy, I'm in trouble," Roy's immediate response was to smile and say, "Oh, Sweetheart, it can't be that bad."

Then he was reminded exactly what 'in trouble' meant when uttered by a 16 year old girl away at school for the first time.

**

The thing to remember, Roy told himself even as he pulled on his gloves, is don't toast the guy until you are sure of the facts. Maybe he'd just beat the kid to a pulp, which was probably more socially acceptable and more satisfying as well. 

In all the ways, large and small, Roy had failed his best friend over the years, this was by far the worst. Even letting Maes be caught and killed by the hommoculi had nothing on allowing Maes' beloved little girl be seduced and ruined by some pimply faced jackanapes from Dublith. 

He should never have agreed to allow her to attend school there. Too far away from friends and family (yes, Havok lived nearby, and Alphonse and the Rockabell girl were in Rush Valley, and the Elrics had connections in town, but it didn't matter, it wasn't enough) and Elysia had no idea how to go about in a big city (yes, Central was much larger but she'd been so carefully sheltered, for her own sake and Gracia's and because she was all they had left of Maes) and dammit, wasn't the school supposed to watch out for her? 

Heads were going to roll. Many would be on fire.

Roy sat in his private compartment on the train and tried to decide on a course of action. Other than burning the boy's dick off, satisfying as that would be. Elysia had said he was older, an alchemist. With Maes gone, all the men regularly in Elysia's life were alchemists, Roy realized with a start. She'd always been fascinated by their showy transmutations and effects, and he had sketched his share of simple arrays for her to play with. She was terrible at it - just like her father - and Roy had never taken her interest seriously. But Alchemy could be used to impress and seduce a girl; Roy himself had lit plenty of cigarettes and romantic fires for dates. 

If Romeo was old enough and had any decent prospects, and Elysia really was in a family way, the best thing would be a quick, small wedding. Elysia could always become a widow later, and would, if Casanova ever failed to treat her and the baby properly. Roy would have to make sure Don Juan knew that. And god help him if Alex or Riza or either of the Elric brothers ever found out what he'd done. 

If in fact Prince Charming had actually crossed the line. Roy had no idea how well brought up young ladies learned about the facts of life; he could only assume it was an embarrassingly factual conversation like he'd had with his foster mother. Of course, growing up in what was essentially a whore house left Roy rather more educated than the average young man.  
He did remember one of the working girls telling Madame Christmas that she couldn't be pregnant, even though she was actively working as a prostitute, because she never let a man kiss her. The girl's mother had told her 'if you kiss a boy, you'll end up an unwed mother' and she honestly thought that's what it took. Once Madame had recovered, she'd sat the whole house hold down, 10 year old Roy included, and bluntly explained exactly how babies were made. God, Roy had been the one to explain the birds and the bees to Maes. It was amazing the misinformation kids picked up on the playground and in locker rooms.

So how much did Elysia actually know? It was hard to imagine shy, ladylike Gracia using the language and gestures Madame had. Roy clung to the hope that Elysia had merely kissed her lover-boy and that Roy could clear the whole thing up with a lecture and some mild threats. And by dragging Elysia back to Central. If she and Valentino were really in love, then he would wait for her. If Lotherio truly loved her back, Roy would have to see what kind of alchemist he was, see if he had any future as a Certified Alchemist. Roy could leave the final vetting to the Elrics.

Note to self: find out the kid's goddamn name.

Satisfied with the rough outline of his plan - don'tkillhimdon'tkillhim - Roy settled back and tried to think of contingency plans - how to break the news to Gracia, what spin to put on it for Alex.

**

Roy arrived in Dublith late the day; despite the longer shadows the heat was still oppressive. He was glad he'd decided to come in civilian clothes as Uncle Roy instead of in the heavier - and hotter - uniform of Maj.Gen. Mustang. It would have been nice to have Hawkeye at his back, though. Roy suspected he'd need her cooler head.

He stepped out on the platform and scanned for the green and white midi dresses which were the uniform of Elysia's school. He saw a girl, not the familiar buoyant honey blond but a plumper, darker girl who was nervously chewing on the ends of the long streamers from her boater. Roy sighed and headed that way. 

"Miss... Fordham?" Roy never forgot a name or face, a useful skill drummed into him by his foster mother. It served him well over the years; most of her lessons had. A practical woman, Madame Christmas. This girl, and one other, a rabbity looking strawberry blond, had spent part of the spring holidays with Elysia and Gracia. Roy had been drafted a few times to drive and provide a manly presence, largely in the form of carrying packages. "Where is Elysia?"

She jumped and spat out the damp ends of her ribbons, unaware that her lips were stained emerald green. "Uncle - er, General Rrr- um, Sir. Elsie got a message from Stephen and went to go meet him. She asked me to apologize to you."

That was unlike Elysia; she was a courteous girl and fond of him. In the old days, Elysia would have been at the platform, jumping up and down and waving madly even before the train rolled to stop. Granted, young ladies had to be more conscious of their dignity than did little girls, so part of the change might be her growing up. If that was the case, Roy wasn't at all sure he approved.

He was quite sure he disapproved of the influence 'Stephen' had if he could persuade Elysia to abandon her family. This was looking less and less like an innocent, romantic misunderstanding and more and more like trouble in every sense of the word.

"Stephen is Elysia's..." Roy flailed for a euphemism and settled on "beau?"

Miss Fordham nodded like her neck was broken. 

"Does this Stephen have more to his name?"

"Oh! Yes, Breguet. He's an alchemist. He talks about it all the time. When he isn't talking about himself."

Roy sensed an ally. "You dislike Mr. Breguet?" At her hesitation he added, "I am worried he isn't a good influence for Elysia. I know you will help me protect her."

The girl's face crumpled. "She thinks she's in love with him. She won't see... he's just a rat, one of those bold ones you see sitting by the docks who think they are too good for any cat or dog to take down."

"Where can I find him?" 

"He has a studio warehouse apartment... garret thing across from a bookstore that sells alchemy books. That's where Elsie met him, she was shopping for birthday presents." Miss Forham put her hands in her skirt pockets and bit her lip.

Edward's birthday was the same as Elysia's, in midwinter, and Roy's own wasn't until late summer. That meant either Alex or Alphonse, late spring or early summer - so it was possible Elysia had been seeing this boy as long as 2 or 3 months. And not a hint to her favorite uncle and confidant. Elysia had been in love before - seven times last year alone - and every new fascination resulted in at least one rapturous telephone call to both Roy and her mother. Maes had been the same way, in love with every new face. That's how Roy had known Gracia was The One - once Maes saw her, no other woman in the world could catch his attention.

"And where is this, exactly?"

"Three or four blocks east on Kine Street." Miss Fordham came to a decision and took a deep breath. "General... Elsie dropped the note. I picked it up..."

"You read it, to make sure Elysia wasn't in some sort of danger, in trouble?" Roy hid his impatience and made his tone understanding and conspiratorial. 

She thrust a wad of paper at him from her pocket. "You don't think they eloped?" Miss Fordham seemed unsure if that would be terrible or the most romantic thing ever.

Roy scanned the note, fighting a chill of fear. He kept his voice calm, but his tone was brusque when he asked, "How long ago did this arrive?"

"Elsie's been gone, oh, twenty minutes, maybe half an hour."

"And Kine Street?"

Wordlessly, the girl pointed. Her eyes were getting that watery look.

Roy pocketed the note and tipped his hat. "Thank you, Miss Fordham." He walked away briskly, leaving her chewing her lip and fidgeting with her ribbons on the platform. 

As soon as he was out of sight, Roy began to run.

**

Strange how the mind works. 

The scrap of paper was little more than an imperious summons: "Come to the studio imediately and I will take care of it. SG" 

First glance, Roy found it rude and was offended on Elysia's behalf - that was no way to talk to any lady, much less your lover. Also, Berguet misspelled 'immediately'. Even at twelve years old, Edward could spell better than that. Fullmetal's handwriting was execrable, of course, but then, he was just learning to write with his off hand. Roy was forming an image of Stephen Berguet: arrogant and sloppy. He wouldn't be surprised if Berguet's alchemy was all flash and no substance. This was no comfort at all if the note meant what Roy feared it did.

The term 'take care of it' was ringing alarm bells in Roy's memory. Daisy, her name had been, not a pretty girl, but vivacious and popular. There had been whispers and white faced conversations in the kitchen at the Palace, things Roy had half heard and largely ignored as he went about his duties of laying the fires and polishing the gentlemen's boots. But he remembered that, clearly: Daisy slipping out, reassuring the worried other girls that she - or was it he? - would 'take care of it'. And later, tearful and frightened girls rushing out of Daisy's room with blood soaked sheets, Madame's beringed hand on his shoulder, tight enough to hurt in her agitation. Her urgent command, "Run to Doc Wright on Seward Street and tell him to come right away. Run like the wind, Royboy, or we'll be needing an undertaker instead." Doc Wright had come, but Daisy had died anyway, bled white. 

Fearing the worst, Roy ran on.

After three blocks, he slowed, scanning for a bookstore or warehouse apartment. Up ahead, Roy spotted "Geber's Books" and smiled grimly to himself as he headed that way. The bookstore was sure to know where Berguet lived; alchemists were notorious for demanding things be delivered. Not that it mattered; directly across the street was a gaudy sign proclaiming "Stephan Berguet, Organic Alchemist".

Roy didn't bother to knock; he blew the door in. He took in the circle painted on the stone floor and got a quick impression of a weedy looking dirty blond in a ridiculous robe before focusing on the pretty girl wearing only her slip. 

"Elysia!" Panic made his tone sharp and commanding. "Get out of the circle. Now!"

"Uncle Roy?!" Startled and confused, Elysia took a step towards Roy. "I'm sorry! Please don't be angry..."

Berguet, the little shit, slapped his hands down on the array and activated it. Elysia screamed as pink light surrounded her.

"Elysia!" The shortest distance between two points and Roy stepped into the circle, intent on getting his goddaughter out of there. The rising alchemical power had been circuiting the badly drawn array and when it detected a far more powerful force, it grounded itself into Roy like lightening striking a metal tower. He jerked to a stop, his hair and clothing buffeted by the winds of the alchemical reaction. Alchemy was arcing through Roy's body, building up and trying to tear free all his own considerable power. Roy fought to get control of the array, abandoning that effort when Elysia screamed again, a ragged, sobbing shriek of pain. 

He snapped, creating a concussive blast that was strong enough to blow Elysia out of the circle. The inevitable rebound hit him like a freight train, slamming Roy to his knees. Hanging on to consciousness by shear stubbornness, Roy crawled out of the array and over to Elysia's crumpled form. He was horrified by the blood, and since he seemed to be drenched in it himself, his frantic examination of her only made it worse. Elysia was insensate but alive and breathing steadily, so Roy spared a moment for Stephen Berguet. 

The man's own pernicious alchemy sealed his fate with a vicious alchemical backlash. Roy raised his hand to put what was left out of his misery with a snap, but the throbbing mass could not live long and was clearly beyond pain or human feeling. Instead, Roy turned back to Elysia, wrapping her in his blood soaked coat before carrying her outside. He sat down heavily on the curb and waited for someone to sound the alarm.

It didn't take long.

**

When Roy had tried to delicately hint that Elysia could be pregnant, the harried trauma surgeon snapped back, "Not now. And never again, by the looks of it." Elysia was only sixteen and to have those choices ripped away from her made Roy's guts twist. He nodded, and not liking the way the doctor was eyeballing him, Roy retreated with as much dignity as he could scrape together. 

He had presence of mind enough to find a telephone and call Hawkeye. At her calm "I'll handle it, Sir" all the adrenaline left him and Roy sat down right there in the hallway on the floor. An elderly nurse and an orderly got him back on his feet, cleaned up, and dressed in green hospital pajamas and those worthless cloth slippers. He shuffled back to Elysia's room to settle on the hard wooden chair by her bed. She was lightly sedated and sleeping uneasily, but the nurse assured Roy Elysia would be able to go home the next day or so. 

Elysia woke up once in the midst of a nightmare, screaming for her Daddy who could always make everything better. Roy held her as she wept on his shoulder. He was waffling between wanting Maes there himself, and being pathetically glad he wasn't and thus didn't know what a mess Roy had made of looking after his only child. 

She was awake again just before dawn, and asked timidly, "Uncle Roy, are you mad at me?"

It never occurred to Roy that Elysia would think any of this was her fault, and shock had him fumbling for words. "Of course not, Sweetheart."

"I did something stupid. Stephen - he wanted to do an alchemical experiment, he said. He said he chose me because I knew lots about Alchemy. I don't, I just let it slide off my brain when you and Uncle Alex and Ed and Al get going. But I let him think I did, because I thought he was so handsome..."

Handsome, Roy thought. Weedy looking jackanapes in a damn costume mystical robe like in a bad melodrama. He squeezed Elysia's hand, not trusting himself to speak.

Dreamily, Elysia continued, "He said it was a very important ritual. He said it was vital I was pure, like silver, like moonlight."

"The Great Rite?" 

"I think so. There was a circle, and we, um, cast off our worldly guises."

He got her naked and alone and used the oldest alchemical con in the book, Roy thought. I wish I'd saved his life so I could have him tried and executed for... No. I wish I'd killed him myself. Being turned inside out was too good for him.

"He... I wanted him to stop but he said he couldn't, because of the alchemy, and so I let him." Elysia's voice hitched. "It hurt, but I know bad things can happen if an array goes wrong, and he was so handsome but I don't think he was very good at it because nothing happened. Except later it did, and I didn't know what to do and I knew you would be so disappointed in me, Uncle Roy, I'm so sorry..." 

Elysia cried and Roy patted her back, smoothed her honey colored hair, and hated Stephen Berguet. 

***

Favored uncle is all very well, but in circumstances such as these a girl needs her mother. Roy and Elysia both were relieved when Gracia rushed in, pale and supported by Alex. Gracia gathered her baby in her arms with a sob, and Roy was grateful that Alex dragged him out into the corridor to give them some privacy. 

"Bad business, this." Alex said, with his gift for understatement. He was looking somewhere in the distance; Roy followed his gaze to where Hawkeye stood at the nurse's station, quietly talking with a doctor. 

"Stephen Berguet, so called Organic Alchemist - and I'll bet a year's pay he never even looked at the application to be State Certified." Roy dropped his voice. "His main gig seemed to be talking impressionable young girls into assisting in the Great Rite."

"Edward will not like that." Edward Elric's whole life was currently devoted to policing Alchemists and promoting responsible Alchemy.

"Ed will go spare," Roy agreed, with a huff of a humorless laugh at using Ed's own favorite term. "And Alphonse will follow him."

"Where is Berguet now?"

"Morgue, I imagine. The rebound was ...grim."

Alex turned and looked Roy in the eye. Roy got the impression Alex wasn't buying his story but had no objections to Berguet being dead, anyway. He changed the subject slightly. "Disappointed in the school. My mother is on the board of directors, there will be inquiries." Alex may as well have said 'heads will roll'.

"Thank you, Alex. Your mother is better qualified than any of us to handle that phase of the investigation." Knowing Elysia - well, remembering her father - Roy suspected the school couldn't have done much to prevent it. Even so, parents had to be able to sleep at night when their daughters were away, and that required accountability. He glanced at the clock. "Is it only 6 am? Is there a night train?"

"No, Major Hawkeye contacted me and I drove the ladies down. I'll stay here in Dublith with Mrs. Hughes and Elysia; you can take my automobile if you like and we'll follow on the train."

Riza herself joined them at that moment and presented Roy with his emergency overnight kit from the office. He slipped away to get dressed while she filled in the more painful details for Alex. 

Roy caught sight of himself in the mirror and was shocked by the dark circles under his eyes and the bruises blooming across his middle. Why is it, he mused, that as soon as you see a wound, it starts to hurt? Roy was certain he'd been fine a short time ago. Successfully fooling himself, at least. He gingerly tugged his undershirt over his head. 

There was a tap at the door, followed by Alex's rumbled, "Mustang? Major Hawkeye has located your clothing from last night." He sounded horrified. 

"Burn them," Roy replied. "Wait, dammit, I need my shoes, at least."

Alex opened the door and leaned in, shoes in hand. He eyed Roy, who was glad the undershirt and high waisted trousers hid most of the damage. "You refused treatment."

"I'm all right." He hoped.

"You are very pale."

Roy faked a smile. "It's hereditary."

Apparently it was easier to fool himself than Alex Armstrong, who gave Roy a severe look and handed over the shoes. They were white and brown wingtips, and would look ridiculous with the uniform. The dappling of dried blood didn't help.

Roy sighed. 

"Sacrifice the belt and transmute them into boots?"

"I don't want to have to leach the iron from the pipes and scrounge for the tannin to get them black enough. I'll just change the uniform into a summer suit, it's too damn hot here as it is."

"Go with a cardigan instead of a sports jacket and you won't have to wear a tie."

Bowing the the Armstrong school of etiquette, Roy snapped his fingers and the clothing shifted. As he dressed, Alex commented, "I thought you could only do that with flame related alchemy - transmute without a circle."

Alex had been there, he must know. Roy shrugged. "It's all about moving the power."

"And focus and will-force."

Roy smiled his shark's grin. "I've always been good at getting what I want."

***

The old regime may be dead and gone, but Amestris was still largely controlled by the military. And if a Certified Alchemist (and incidentally a Major General) said Stephen Berguet was killed by his own alchemy, well, no one was going to question that much. Particularly after seeing what was left of Berguet.

Roy and Riza took the train back to Central, leaving Alex his car. Elysia was released from the hospital the next day and at Alex's insistence, she and her mother repaired to the Armstrong villa in Aquroya. The consensus was a change of scenery would be best, in case Elysia was healing a broken heart as well as everything else. She was recovering well.

Roy was not. The bruises faded and returned in slightly different patterns. He felt achy and feverish and as time went on, increasingly exhausted. Hawkeye suggested he'd caught a bug that was going around and shipped Roy off to the Clinic. The Surgeon on Call was fresh out of medical school and had the gall to hint that perhaps Roy was simply getting old. The youngest Major General in Amestrian history, 41 year old Roy Mustang, blazed out of the clinic in high dudgeon. Anger got him through the rest of the day, but the next morning Roy could barely get out of bed. He decided he liked Riza's theory best and called in to have his office telephone line transferred, and miscellaneous messages and mail sent over to his home. 

A nervous corporal delivered a stack of documents and left in a hurry. She was more used to crotchety old generals in their offices, not young handsome generals in their pajamas. Roy glumly took the stack and sifted through it, wondering how much he could worm out of doing by blaming the 'flu. One of the packets was from Dublith; it contained the final investigation into the crimes and fate of Stephen Berguet. The officer in charge was thorough, the envelope contained Berguet's notes, alchemical journal, and detailed photographs of the death scene. 

Roy held up a couple of photos, seeing portions of the array for the first time. He sat down abruptly on the couch. He fanned out the photographs while his guts twisted and writhed. Finally, Roy reached for the phone and ordered a message to be sent out.

Fullmetal: Your expertise is needed in Central ASAP. Flame.


	2. Chapter 2

The Sky of a Tree Called Life

Chapter 2

They say, in ancient times, a great warrior set out to conquer all the known world. When he succeeded, the story goes, he sat down and wept, as he had no idea what to do next.

Edward Elric never had that problem. 

What to do once their bodies were restored was a constant discussion and favorite fantasy of the Elric Brothers, and by the time they were all done with the Promised Day and its inevitable fall out, Ed had his plan ironed out. 

"What we need is a governing board to replace the military for State Certification," Ed said to Roy, Alex, Izumi, and his brother. "Since we are pretty much the most powerful alchemists alive at the moment - not counting Hohenheim but who knows where he buggered off to- we should be the first one. I'd like to not have more than 2 active duty military guys on the board at a time, which is okay because I'm retiring. Eventually I want to add some Xingians and who knows, maybe an Ishvallan Shaman or something, for balance."

Izumi scoffed. "This is an improvement over the State Alchemist Program? You think a pocket watch is all it takes to be an alchemist?"

"No, but I know money for research is a big help. The military wanted weapons and mass death, we want things that help people - like maybe wheat that is less susceptible to drought or something we can put on the sheep that will kill the parasites without making the sheep sick. A way to improve roads and communications. And most important, a way to stop loonies from getting their hands on an alchemy book and a couple stray dogs and trying to turn the next hobo into a werewolf. "

"Prevent human transformation, you mean," Al said.

"Not exactly. General Armstrong told me the only reason the Military didn't allow human transformation is that they didn't want anyone building their own army. We all know you can't raise the dead, and trying is what really opens the gate. We outlaw that and building hommoculi. But human transformation on willing subjects - say, assisting reassembling a badly broken arm - why not? We should be doing that sort of stuff. Mei did it."

Roy put in. "The stricture against fabricating gold will have to stand, of course." 

Ed waved his hand dismissively. "Duh. A guy can't figure out basic economics like that, he shouldn't be an alchemist, anyway."

"I like the idea," Alex said. "I am interested in Architecture and rebuilding some of the cities ruined by these unfortunate wars forced on us by our former command. I am in favor of assembling Alchemists as a force for good."

"You make it something to be proud of, an elite group," Al said thoughtfully. "And people will want to go to a certified alchemist. Alchemists will want to join, because - correct me if I'm wrong - you may not have to join but no one who isn't a member is going to get a research grant."

"Not from Amestris, no. They may be funded privately, but if you were investing a lot of money in an alchemist... wouldn't you want to know he was a good one?" Ed shrugged.

"Or she," Izumi reminded them tartly. She added, "I approve of the idea of Alchemy being policed by its peers. Reputation is important, and maybe we can convince people Alchemists are here to help, not to steal jobs or destroy cities."

"I only destroyed a couple," Ed muttered. Al kicked him.

"What do you have to do if you join this... guild?" Roy asked, pretending he didn't notice.

"We'd have high standards, kind of like State Alchemists. You have to prove you were knowledgeable and competent, pass a test. You have to agree to the rules- no chimera, no raising the dead, no homoculi, no forgery. You agree to share information responsibly. You re-enforce our reputation for trustworthiness and skill. You work for the betterment of Amestris and all mankind. You get a watch or a plaque or some sort of symbol or title or something, and you pay dues. The dues help fund research and education and pay for people like us to supervise the testing and to enforce the rules."

"All right," Roy said. "Let's do it."

And the Amestrian Alchemcial Association was born.

***

Twelve years later the AAA was a force to be reckoned with. The Governing Board was elected every 5 years, and each member took a turn serving as Director for one of those years. Roy liked to hedge his bets and thus far had managed to ensure at least two of the original five were always re-elected; currently Roy was serving with Ed, a Xingian Healer, and two Agricultural Alchemists who spent every meeting quibbling with each other. Ed was the current Director but he never let a little thing like running the most powerful and influential civilian organization in Amestris slow him down. Board meetings were quarterly and as far as Ed was concerned, the rest of the time he was free to do his real job. 

Edward Elric's 'real job' was in many ways a continuation of what he had done while on active duty. He traveled the length and breadth of Amestris, investigating rumors of Alchemical malpractice, doing necessary emergency repairs, and supervising alchemical demonstrations. Ed interviewed hopefuls wanting to become Certified Members of the AAA. He reviewed grant applications and made suggestions. He gave speeches, judged science fairs, and attended children's graduation ceremonies. At 28, Ed was still the People's Alchemist, the most widely known and best loved of them all. He infected people with his love of Alchemy; he reassured them with his passionate devotion to the ethical treatment of all, and he got Alchemists to sign up for the Amestrian Alchemcial Association in droves.

Since the next board meeting was a good 3 weeks away, Roy was surprised to hear a brisk knock at his door the day after he'd sent Ed the summons. Roy had managed half a day at work and then come home lugging a depressingly large stack of paperwork. Some things never changed. At least it was Friday and he'd have the weekend to recover. Roy answered the door reluctantly, expecting a courier with still more files, and instead himself looking down into one bright golden eye.

The other was covered by an eye patch.

"Dear God, what have you done to yourself now?" 

Edward Elric frowned. "Why does everyone assume it's my fault?" He tossed his long gold hair and huffed. Ed was dressed in his traveling clothes, a summer weight suit and loose string tie. He had his red duster over one arm, and a suitcase in hand. "You fuss like an old woman, Mustang, you are as bad as Al."

"Forgive me for not wanted to see you further diminished."

"At least let me get off the porch before you start on the short jokes." Ed brushed past Roy as he stepped aside. "I'll give you that it was a good one, have you been saving it up?"

"It just came to me."

"Nice that you haven't lost your touch. Am I staying with you or should I call Gracia or a hotel?"

"With me. The Hughes are out of town, anyway. Edward, what happened to your eye?"

"Winry. She wears goggles but does she give them to her customers when she's drilling? She does now. I got a sliver of metal in my eye, ignored it - I figured it would wash out eventually. Instead it rusted and got gross and Al went spare. He made me swear on our mother's grave I'd wear the patch for at least three days. So when he calls to check up on me, you can tell him I did."

"Metal in your eye?" Roy said weakly. "Rusting?"

"Very common industrial accident, happens all the time, especially on windy days in Rush Valley, which would be Rust Valley if it rained there more than twice a year. Sit down, sheesh, you look like you are going to puke. It's no big deal."

Instead of sitting, Roy headed to the kitchen, on the assumption Ed would want refreshments. "And why was Miss Rockbell drilling?"

"To get the knife out. I was just going to transmute it, but she caught me and came unhinged. I'd forgotten about it, actually."

Roy paused, tea pitcher in hand. "You forgot a knife that was sticking in your arm?"

Ed drifted into the kitchen; he'd set his coat and suitcase down somewhere. "It's not like the automail has a lot of feeling." The Promised Day had restored all the Gate had stolen from them, but Ed's arm was freely given. He claimed he didn't mind; it was the leg that had hurt. "We used to have these conversations all the time, but in those days you already knew the answers. Not sure if I should be glad you aren't babysitting me anymore or worried that your spies are getting too old to keep up with me." Ed peered up at Roy. "Next time I'll send you a postcard and warn you, okay? Shock must not be good for you, you are frog belly white." He took the pitcher away from Roy and poured them both drinks. "You aren't having a heart attack, are you?"

"I'm fine," Roy lied, digging in the ice box for cold cuts. "Perhaps you should reconsider my offer of an Army escort."

"No way, it defeats the whole purpose of The Association and privatizing Alchemy. Speaking of which, this summons had better not be you blubbing about me moving your Directorship down a year - you know we can't have Angus and Marie in consecutive years or all they'll do is countermand each other's policies."

"Really, Edward, when was the last time you heard me 'blub'?"

Ed made a show of rubbing his chin and ruminating. "That time Hawkeye brought you the day's paperwork in a wheel barrow."

"Mitigating circumstances, doesn't count. "

"It was more of a high keening whine, anyway." Ed took the loaf of pumpernickel out of the bread box and deftly sliced it. "You want one sandwich or two?"

Roy shook his head. "I'm not hungry." Knowing Ed, Roy set out both the ham and the roast beef, and then followed up with swiss cheese, mustard, a tomato, and a jar of Gracia's deadly watermelon rind pickles.

"Ew, put those back. I love Gracia like a second or third mother, but no one can eat those pickles."

"Maes loved them."

"He was in love, period."

Roy leaned back against the cupboard, idly turning the jar in his hand. Even through the blue glass, the pickles nearly glowed radioactive green. Someday he was going to break down and alchemically analyze the damn things to find out how she got them that weird color. "Alex likes them."

"He's in love, too." At Roy's arched brow, Ed continued, "He's been carrying a torch for Gracia for ages, you know that. Winry says she's sweet on him, too, but you can't trust everything Win says if she's been reading romances again." Ed started assembling his sandwiches.

"Maes isn't an easy man to get over," Roy murmured.

"You would know, right?"

Ruffled, Roy chose not to comment. He sat the jar down on the counter with more force than he intended. 

Ed said soothingly, "You think I don't know? The pain never goes away, you just get used to it. Eventually, you get used to it enough that you can pick up and move on. It's been 13 years, that's all I'm saying." He took a bite of his sandwich. "Time to move on." he said muffledly. "For everyone." He carried his glass and sandwich over to Roy's kitchen table. "If you are waiting until after I eat to tell me what you needed my 'expertise' on, allow me to remind you who you are dealing with."

"How can I forget? You are the man who once ate a boot with the Emperor of Xing in a sea of boiling blood."

"He was only a prince, then." Ed chewed thoughtfully. "And it wasn't boiling, more like lukewarm. Body temperature."

"I'm so glad I'm not eating," Roy muttered, heading for his study to fetch the files. 

"Me too, more for me," Ed sang after him cheerfully.

 

***

A short while later, Ed was frowning at the photographs of the array, spread out on Roy's kitchen table. "Maybe The Association-" Ed always pronounced the capitals as a point of pride - "should consider teaching a class on how to record arrays. Photographs are nice, and all, but it would be great to see the whole thing without having to sketch it myself."

"You can't do it in your head?"

"Of course I can, but how am I going to point stuff out to you if it's all in my head? What's that smear over here?"

Roy glanced at the photo. "The alchemist."

Ed winced. 

"Stephen Berguet," Roy continued relentlessly. "So called Organic Alchemist."

"The Organic Alchemist is out of Stoneyvale, up North. Does stuff with fertilizer, the man's a genius, he gets tomatoes the size of cantaloupes. One slice for a whole sandwich. Of course, you can smell his workshop a half mile away. Further when the wind shifts. He should sue this clod for defamation of character."

"Not much point, now."

"No, I see that. Before you start, allow me to point out for the record that I still say education is the only way to avoid things like this. You can't just tell people Human Transformation is forbidden. You have to explain why." 

"My position on that stands."

Ed flashed Roy a sunny grin. "I know, Mr Secret Man. Someday I will get you to see the light." 

Roy sipped his tea to hide an answering smile of his own. He would be easier to convince if Edward wasn't so damn much fun to argue with.

"Meanwhile, I'm surprised the poor bastard got enough alchemy going to even get a rebound. I could tie chalk to a mouse and it would scuttle out a better array. What was he trying to accomplish?"

"I have a suspicion but since I can't ask the man, I'd like to see if you reach the same conclusion."

"He either got a bad bootleg copy of Rhazes' Constructions or he was a complete idiot. Maybe both. I've seen this pattern, of course." Ed tapped a photo with a good shot of a balance with a serpent resting on both pans. "Al uses it for kidney stones and the like. But the basilisk is facing the wrong way, and..." He frowned and grabbed another picture, glaring at it before ruffling through the others. Ed spread the photographs expertly out on the table, recreating the whole array. "He was transferring something, was there a vessel?"

"I don't recall."

Ed gave Roy a sharp look. "You were there? ...that's why you have the reports. Flame, if this is another damn Military backed loon, I will personally pull the credentials of every alchemist even associated with this, and that includes you."

"No, nothing like that. The Army doesn't have the funding anymore to support - and hide- illegal activities like this."

"And here I was crediting your benign influence." 

"Who do you think pushed the new budget through and screwed with their funding?"

"I knew I put up with you for a reason. Ok, this part here is to remove something from a living body and transfer it, but there are no safe guards whatsoever. Crazy. The power only flows one way, to the Alchemist. It's like he wanted the kidney stones and didn't care if the patient died. But not stones, with the moon and... " Something clicked into place and Ed raised his head slowly to meet Roy's eyes. "Who was the woman in the array?"

"Ed..."

"This is a killing array. That son of a bitch. Did she know? Did she consent? Hell, did she survive?"

"She survived, yes, but-"

"No way, not with this array." Ed slapped his hand down on the photos. "He wanted the fetus, the nascent red stone, so he needed water, earth and air for the transfer but you can't have life without all four elements. The only way she could have lived is if the array was balanced by the introduction of fiiiiiii..." Ed's eyes focused on Roy. "Tell me you didn't walk into an active array." He leaned forward, hissing, "I know you are smarter than that. I know it. Tell me you didn't do the most boneheaded apprentice goof ever and walk cold into some lunatic's active array!" 

"Ed," Roy said helplessly, "It was Elysia. He had Maes' little girl."

Ed fell back abruptly. "Well, damn."

***

"She's only 16," Ed protested when Roy finished detailing what little he knew of the situation.

Diplomatically, Roy said, "I remember 16. Do you?" He was rather a late bloomer, personally, something he'd attributed at the time to being constantly surrounded by sex. A kid whose parents owned a Sweet Shop didn't crave candy, after all. Roy had worked out later that his problem at the time wasn't that he didn't want sex but that there was no one around he wanted to have sex with. Edward, on the other hand, at sixteen had been caught up in saving his brother, Amestris, and the whole world.

Adolescence couldn't be denied. Ed shrugged and smiled sheepishly. "Yeah, but ... you know, guys. I don't think Winry..." He frowned. "Actually, I don't know about Winry."

"A gentleman would never ask."

"Hell no, not unless I wanted Al picking bone and metal fragments out of my brain before he alchemized my skull back together." Ed sighed. "The closest we came to even talking about it was Rush Valley. Garfiel was the first mechanic who looked at Winry's automail and not her tits. Al made me give her the Pervert Talk."

"Pervert Talk?"

"You know, never go anyplace with someone who gets friendly in a public rest room."

Roy rubbed his forehead. "I should have had that talk with you. Lord, twelve years old..."

"Before you get all guilt ridden, Sig told Al and me about that when we were 9, 10. The train stopped here in Central and Al had to pee - he always has to pee, his bladder must be the size of a walnut - and Teacher made Sig go with us. We'd been on our own a while and were fairly offended, so he explained about not talking to strangers in the men’s room." Ed grinned evilly. "You want to know how old I was the first time a guy approached me in a bathroom and tried to give me candy so he could touch my 'peepee'?"

"No, but tell me anyway."

"Twentyfive." Ed laughed at Roy's expression. "He offered to buy me a drink instead of candy, though."

"Clearly he didn't realize the way to an Elric's heart is chocolate cake."

Ed brightened. "You have cake?"

***

Roy shivered. He was dressed only in his pajamas and house shoes, per Edward's orders. The metal fly of his trousers and various layers of street clothes and underthings would 'interfere with the array'. Despite the warm summer afternoon, it was chilly in the cellar. Ed, who was bustling about sketching arrays on sheets of butcher paper, caught the movement and grinned. "No one told you to put your lab in the basement. What is it with that, some sort of weird Alchemist compulsion?"

"You can't exactly decorate the front parlor in arrays, Fullmetal," Roy drawled. "Well, you would. If you had a front parlor."

"Of course, gotta have good light. And was that another dig at me being itinerant?"

"You never have the urge to find yourself a home and settle down?"

"I have lots of homes. One in Rush Valley, one in Dublith, heck, one in the Imperial City in Xing, two here in Central..."

That would be Al and Winry's Clinic, the Curtis' Butcher Shop, and of course His Imperial Magesty Ling had always been generous and fond of Ed. Central meant Gracia's and one other. Roy was mildly pleased Ed considered his place his home. Unless the kid meant the restored First National Library, which was just as likely.

"Okay," Ed said, approaching with brush and jar in hand. One array covered paper was held to the wall by masonry fingers, the other was suspended from the ceiling on a pulley system transmuted from an old clothesline. "Take your shirt off, I need to paint some glyphs on you to focus the effects."

"Exactly what effects are those, again?" Roy shrugged out of his pajama top.

"I told you, the array generates sound waves that pass through you and agitate the array on the treated paper behind you to give an image of your innards." Ed glanced up from stirring his paint and his jaw dropped. "Damn, Mustang."

Roy's hand moved of its own accord to cover the hideous scarring from his fight with Lust. But when he met Ed's eyes, Ed wasn't looking there. He must be eying the multicolored bruises.

Ed shook himself. "You look like the Hawk beat you with a lead pipe for skipping out on signing stuff."

"You know Hawkeye would never lay a hand on me." Roy added after a beat. "She'd shoot me."

"True, but she's mellowing in her old age, so it would probably only be a flesh wound. Dog tags must go." Ed pointed to the offending items.

"No." That was non-negotiable.

Ed shrugged. "Twist them around the back for now. You'll have to hold them in your mouth when I fire the array." He held up his brush. "Hold still."

"That will wash off, right?"

"Why, you got a hot date? I hope she's a doctor, you could be bleeding internally."

"I don't think so.'

"Quit talking, you are moving too much."

Roy concentrated on not squirming as the brush tickled across his skin. Ed deftly sketched glyphs and runes over Roy's heart, liver, and guts. His only comment when he reached the mess that was Roy's left side was, "That must have hurt like a son of bitch." Ed was no stranger to scars, after all.

"Now, up against the wall."

"A phrase from my nightmares." Roy obeyed, standing awkwardly in front of the paper.

"Oh, you are too important any more for a firing squad. They'd hire a Xingian assassin, you'd never see it coming."

"I'll try to take comfort in that."

"Spread your legs a little more, so you are standing like a superhero. Think about bouncing bullets off your chest."

"They don't bounce," Roy said, feeling ridiculous as he tried to fit himself into the shape Ed demanded. "They go in, and it hurts."

"Never been shot. Stabbed, impaled, kicked around, swallowed whole even, but never shot. Well, not in the meat bits. Weird, huh?" Ed ran his hands up Roy's sides, raising Roy's arms gently to the position he wanted. Ed's left hand was warm in the cool cellar air, but his metal right hand was chilly and the combination caused Roy's skin to goosepimple and his nipples to tighten and harden. Ed's breath on his neck wasn't helping.

Thankfully, Ed either didn't notice or chose not to comment. He lifted the metal dog tags hanging around Roy's neck and said, "Say 'Ahhhh'."

Holding his and Maes' tags in his teeth, Roy held his breath as commanded and tried not to feel like a complete idiot. Ed clapped his hands and a gritty breeze blew right through him, leaving Roy with an annoying itch too far inside to ever hope to scratch.

"At ease, Soldier," Ed said as he moved the first array. "Let’s see what we got."

Roy spat out the dog tags and moved to look at the receiver sheet with Fullmetal. All he saw were lighter and darker blobs and shades of gray. Even so, it was unpleasant to see one's own insides. The mind rebelled. Roy sat heavily on a nearby stool and pulled his pajama top back on. It was damn cold down here. "Can you interpret that?"

"Kind of. I'll send it to Al for a final opinion, of course. Wow, I can't believe Lust didn't do more damage. Come to think on it, I'm surprised you can digest normal food at all. You are one lucky bastard."

"She wanted me to bleed to death slowly," Roy said wearily. "They had a thing about blood, remember?"

"Yeah, but still, I don't eat firecracker shrimp at the Xingain buffet since that adventure with the I-beam."

"What was the adventure with the I-beam? The reports were -"

"Okay, I don't know what this is," Ed interrupted, tapped the sheet. "But it isn't supposed to be there. Your body agrees with me; it's attacking and that's why you are running a fever and feeling like crap."

"I never said I felt like crap."

"I talked to Hawkeye. What? It's the middle of the day, I thought you'd be at the office. She told me you were home goldbricking."

Roy was feeling lightheaded. "You don't think it could be... Elysia's baby, do you?"

"Berguet's array was designed to transfer the nascent energies of the fetus to him, killing the physical shell. If the mother died, too, that would be bonus power for him. It's possible that with the injection of your own, more powerful and tightly controlled alchemy you interrupted the flow and focused the interaction between you and Elysia. You used a physical attack and so the counter action would also be physical." Ed chewed his lip, thinking, and then continued, "You got the fetus, maybe even her entire baby carriage. There's no way the fetus survived the transfer, though. I'm surprised you did."

Did Roy's body, already attuned by the Gate to all things Alchemical, instinctively absorb the baby's tiny life glow to heal itself?

"I'm going to be sick," Roy said, and was.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The biological clock ticks for us all.

Ed sent Roy off to take a warm bath to get the chill off while he cleaned up. Roy noticed, with some irritation, that the symbols Ed had painted on him did not, in fact, wash off. He sighed. It wasn't like he actually had a hot date, or felt like going on one if he did.

Dressed again in comfortable old clothes, Roy paused at the head of the stairs. He was still lightheaded, and the perspective of the steps, dappled by the afternoon light, made him cling to the banister. It was easier going if he simply shut his eyes, which is how he found himself nearly nose to nose with Ed at the foot. Nose to top of head, anyway. Roy flailed backwards and was caught by a cool metal hand.

"I called Al. He came unhinged. He wants you, the internal exam sheet, and everything we have on the original array at the clinic right now. When was the last time you ate, by the way?"

"I - what, no, I can't just take off, I have duties and responsibilities." Roy was being frog marched through his own home. He tugged gently to free his arm. Ed didn't seem to notice.

"I told him you'd say that. And it was shocking, shocking, I say, what came out of my darling baby brother's mouth then. I blame you and the military, clearly bad influences. Short version: be there no later than Monday morning or Al is going to call Hawkeye and have her mail you to him in a dog crate. You didn't answer my question."

"I couldn't get a word in edgewise. And I'm sure I've eaten."

Patiently, Ed said, "Today? Yesterday? Tuesday a week?"

"Yesterday, I'm almost certain. I can walk, you know."

Ed did finally let go when they reached Roy's den. "Not eating is part of your problem, you big goof." He clapped his hands.

Too late, Roy protested, "Ed, don't transmute my furniture! I liked that couch."

"You can fix it later." Ed shoved Roy down on the now wider and softer couch. "You are going to take a nap while I fix dinner." He pushed Roy back and lifted his legs, tucking a pillow under them.

"Is this your bedside manner? Nursing through bullying? No wonder Alphonse doesn't let you see patients."

"My method is very efficient. It only works on military types, though." Ed fished a cloth out of a bowl of ice water and folded it neatly. "My secret weapon, the head cloth. That and peppermint tea cures everything." He draped it over Roy's forehead and eyes. "Now, get some sleep."

***

Whether it was the 'magical' cool cloth, the peppermint tea, or the nap, by the time Ed woke Roy up and fed him chicken and rice soup for dinner, Roy was feeling close to human. He caught up on some paperwork while Ed cleaned the kitchen. He had the radio on; that and the sounds of Ed's puttering created background noise was oddly soothing for a man who'd lived most of his life alone.

Ed stuck his head in through the doorway. "I'm going to take advantage of your decadent shower and tub."

"Help yourself; I'm almost done here, we can have a nightcap."

The windows were full open and the drapes drawn back to help the summer evening leach some of the accumulated heat from the house. Roy poured two snifters of the fine brandy Alex had given him for Yule and stood by the window, watching the fireflies. It wasn't so long ago Roy would have poured Ed lemonade instead. Ed had grown up and in many ways filled the gaps losing Maes had created. Alex and Riza were always the pins that held Roy's world together, but Maes had kept him alive. Like Maes, Edward could infuriate, confound, stimulate, and make Roy laugh - often at the same time.

Roy sipped his drink. Ed was right about one thing, the pain of loss never went away.

Hair still damp from his shower, Ed joined Roy by the window. He was wearing his sleep clothes, shorts and a tank top, and radiated health and vitality. Roy passed him a snifter, noting that Ed had abandoned the eyepatch. Ed winked at him, and palmed the glass in his left hand to let the spirits warm. He ambled over to the easy chair and curled up like a cat, one leg draped over the arm. Roy went back to his transmuted couch and sprawled, reaching over to snap off the lamp. There was ambient light from the city and stars, and Roy was feeling melancholy enough to crave the darkness.

"Do you ever regret ... how things worked out?"

"Al and Winry, you mean? That's really what everyone wants to know, even Ling asked what happened with Win. Of course, he was interested in her, too. I told him to leave Winry alone or I'd cut his dick off and have Al reattach it in the middle of his forehead."

Ed never seemed to register you couldn't talk to heads of state like that. Part of his charm, Roy supposed. "And what did the Supreme Ruler of the Empire of Xing say to that?"

"Oh, come on, this is Ling. He said, 'Make sure it remains the proper imperial size.'"

When Roy was done coughing, he asked, "So, why didn't you marry Miss Rockbell?"

"Same reason you didn't marry Hawkeye, I figure." Roy said nothing, so Ed continued, "I can't remember a point in my life without Winry. She was always there, constant as the sun. So after the Promised Day, when Al was better, we tried being a couple for a while. You remember."

Roy nodded. It was a brand new day, a whole new world in many ways, and the young lovers had added a touch of sweetness to it all. Of course, they had been in Risenbool and Rush Valley and Roy had been in Central and later, Ishval, so much of what he knew about Ed in that time period came romantically colored via Gracia.

"We knew we loved each other, but we were horrible together. We fought all the time. We always had, but somehow it got worse and more personal. Why couldn't we get it right? And Al had always loved Win, too, but he got this stupid noble idea that he should step aside as payback for all I did for him - and that's a quote because you know I didn't think of it like that- and he and I started fighting over me fighting with Win. Then one day, Win and Al got into it because of... I can't actually remember why, but it was my fault. I left for Xing that night." Ed shrugged. "You know what Ling told me? He said everyone loves the sun, but no one marries it."

Roy raised his glass. "To the lights of our lives."

"Long may they shine," Ed agreed, and they drank to that.

"I nearly was married," he added after a while. Roy gave him the eyebrow raised 'do tell' look. "One of Ling's sisters, Jinjing. Kind of a political thing, she wanted to join a convent and devote herself to studying alkahestry, but the Emperor's sisters don't get to do that. If she married the man who saved the Emperor's life, I'm duly rewarded and exalted, Ling looks good, I'm not around so she can do what she wants, everyone's happy." Ed shrugged. "I told Ling I didn't want a mooch for a brother-in-law. Too cliché."

"You turned down a beautiful Xingian Princess who studies alkahestry? Don't you want children?"

"Kids weren't in the offer, convent, remember? It's like the only way a high born lady can devote herself to purely intellectual pastimes there. Jinjing is the one who tutored me in Alkahestry when I first arrived, so I knew what she really wanted. She joined the order anyway out of shame at being rejected, so it's all good." Ed sipped his drink. "Children were never in my plans. Al was the one who was going to carry on the Elric line."

"Because you didn't think you'd survive restoring him."

"That was a factor. Also, I like traveling and adventure and Al wanted a home and peace. Logically, he'd be the better parent. What brought this on?"

"Maes didn't have any family," Roy said after a while, swirling his brandy. "He grew up in a State Orphanage, alone."

"That why he was always adopting people? Seems like he made the best of it, then."

"He should have had a huge family, dozens of children, twenty grandchildren. He had enough love for that." Roy sighed. "Now he'll have no grandchildren at all."

"These are modern times, Roy. A woman isn't judged on how fecund she is. Anyway, Elysia can always adopt. She's certainly grown up with enough surrogate siblings not to attach any sort of stigma to it."

"Ed, if you went off to Xing again for a couple more years, and on your return, Alphonse handed you a chubby blond toddler and said he'd adopted a boy, you would be happy."

"Of course I would."

"You'd dote on him, sneak him treats, take his side over scrapes, bail him out of college pranks. You'd get to know the kid, and you'd love him like he was your own nephew."

"He'd be my nephew, Mustang. What are you getting at?"

Roy smiled and took another sip. "Ah, but if you came home from Xing and Alphonse put a blond baby in your arms and said 'this is my son, the fruit of my loins' you would love that child instantly, with all your heart."

"Once I got over laughing at 'fruit of the loins', yeah. Ok, I see your point, blood is thicker than water and all that."

"More importantly, it's a form of immortality. Al can never die as long as his blood lives on in his children." Roy stared out the window, turning the glass in his hands. "I've buried a lot of good friends over the years," He said eventually, as if he'd forgotten Ed was there. "Sometimes I wonder if it was all worth it."

"It's not a bargain you make, Mustang. If someone had come to you 20 years ago and said 'you can be the youngest major general in Amestrian history, you can usher in a period of peace and prosperity, but your buddy Hughes has to die', you'd've set the guy on fire."

"Absolutely."

"But if that person said to Hughes 'Roy can help save the country, your wife and daughter can live without war and the hommoculi threatening them, but you have to die' - Hughes might have gone for it."

Roy smiled sadly. "Yes, if it were a sure thing."

"Because that's what you or I would have done, too. Hughes was like a father to Al and me, more than Hohenheim ever was. But when it came down to the end, at the Promised Day, we needed Hohenheim and his incredible power and crazy assed plan, not Hughes, not my mom, not any of the others we lost and wanted to see reborn. If you had died instead of Hughes, what good would it have done Amestris? What other man, crippled and blind, could still reignite the sun?"

"I certainly didn't accomplish anything there on my own."

Ed waved his hand dismissively, splashing the brandy a little. "Point being, it was how it had to be. It sucks, but we move on. That's all you can ever do, look forward and keep moving."

"But what are we moving forward to? What is our future? None of us have children. Elysia is the only member of the next generation of us. And now, she's the last."

It was Ed's turn to drink while he thought. "Elysia may have chosen not to have children, anyway."

"But that would be a choice. Now... now there simply is no more Maes, after Elyisa. I feel like I've lost him again, and this time, it truly is my fault." Roy stood up, cutting off Ed's murmured protestations. "I'm sorry, I'm not good company tonight. Help yourself to anything you like; I'm going to bed."

"Sleep well," Ed said softly. He didn't comment when Roy took the bottle with him.

***

By the time Roy crawled downstairs the next day, Ed was gone. He'd left fried bacon congealing on the stove and a note under the coffee pot. Roy poured himself a cup of the tepid, bitter brew, snagged a few strips of bacon, and collapsed in a kitchen chair to read Ed's missive.

Drink plenty of fluids. Eat a bacon sandwich, great for hangovers.

Roy sighed. Ed knew him a little too well. The note continued:

Your Options, in descending order of sanity:  
Go immediately to Al and get that mass removed.  
Go to a local doctor and get the mass removed.   
Do nothing.  
Try to remove the mass yourself.  
Go to Al and see if he can move the organs into place and make them functional.

Roy snorted and shook his head. It was very like Ed to cover all the bases. Make them functional, indeed. When Roy said he'd do anything for Maes' little girl, that hadn't included bearing her children.

Ridiculous.

***

God damn Edward Elric and his need to scientifically lay out all the options. His joking suggestion kept creeping back to Roy's mind. It haunted him as he dutifully attempted to eat a bacon sandwich, it keep popping up and interfering with his concentration while Roy attacked his stacks of paperwork. Derision changed to curiosity and then resignation. Roy was simply going to have to find a way to ask Alphonse if it was possible to save- if it were possible to salvage anything. Without sounding like a freak.

The phone rang Roy rose to answer it, grateful for the distraction. His side grabbed as he stood and Roy wondered if he should give up and go down to Rush Valley and see Al. He was startled when his terse, "Mustang" was answered by the voice of man he'd been thinking of.

"Good morning, Sir. Brother brought me your scan and the file on the early train."

Ah, so that's where Edward had gone. Roy had probably interrupted some experiment he needed to get back to.

Alphonse Elric continued, "I took one look and canceled my appointments. You should do that, too, Sir, for the next 5 days at least."

"Ed didn't seem to think it was any big deal," Roy protested.

"Brother has no concept of medical urgency or convalescence. He'd take out his own appendix and plan to go back to work in the morning." There was a muffled protest in the background, which Al shushed. Roy chuckled, listening to the brothers quibble. "Sorry, Sir. So, your choice is to come down on the next train or I take Winry's car and come and get you."

"Al, I don't think-"

"With all due respect, it doesn't matter what you think. I'll tell you what I think. I think if we don't move swiftly Major Hawkeye won't need a dog crate to ship you to us; she'll be using an oblong pine box."

The strength went out of Roy's legs and he sat down abruptly on the hard wooden hallway chair. Alphonse took pity on him. "Fortunately, I am an excellent doctor, Brother is a superb analytical chemist, and all three of us are alchemical geniuses. Get on that train; we'll make it right."

 

***

 

Ed met Roy at the station. "Good timing, I just got in from Dublith myself." He grabbed Roy's overnight bag and Roy was feeling bad enough to let him. The long uncomfortable ride had given him far too much time to brood.

"That's a lot of travel for you in one day. Official AA investigation?"

"It is my job. Technically, you covered all the Association can really do - Berguet wasn't licensed and he's dead now, so we can't exactly formally reprimand him at this point." Ed veered towards a lemonade stand and bought them both a cool drink. It was barely after noon and already blazing hot, that slow dehydrating heat that reminded Roy of Ishval. Ed lowered his voice as they walked on. "Al went spare over Elysia, and then Winry came completely unhinged when she found out. And that had nothing on what Teacher had to say - she really feels responsible since Berguet was in her town."

"I suppose it is too late to remind you that discretion was in order, considering Elysia's age and reputation?"

"In this family? Elysia and Gracia tell Winry everything and eventually Al and I hear about it whether we want to or not. I just told Teacher that a rogue alchemist was preying on little girls with the Old Great Rite gambit. She was on the telephone to Elysia's school when I left arranging some lectures on basic alchemy and offering to teach self-defense classes. I think it's a good idea."

"It is, and I'm ashamed we didn't think of it before."

"I need your help to push Congress into making it illegal to practice Alchemy without a license."

Roy could follow Edward's train of thought but was still surprised. "You were against that before, you didn't want Alchemy over regulated because it would stifle original thinking."

"I'm not saying research, I'm saying practice, do any alchemy for money and especially involving another life form. Al had to take classes and pass exams and be certified and licensed to be a doctor and alchemy is every bit as dangerous as medicine when practiced by a crack pot. More dangerous, actually."

"I'll back you, of course. The military doesn't have the sway it used to, but the Association can write its own ticket as far as Congress is concerned."

"That's why you should give up on the whole Fuhrer thing," Ed said smoothly. "Run for President instead."

"I'm never going to get my 520 cenz back," Roy grumbled.  
***

Alphonse spent the day running every imaginable test on Roy, and given the Elric brand of non-traditional brilliance, that had amounted to quite a lot. Ed and Al were still perfecting their scanning arrays but once they were satisfied that the results could be depended upon, they would publish and revolutionize the medical community. Roy could foresee every hospital having an alchemist on staff; it warmed him to think of the lives those boys would save. Meanwhile, Alphonse was in his office conferring via telephone with Elysia's admitting doctor in Dublith while Ed was sequestered in their lab running tests on what had felt like a gallon of Roy's blood. Dismissed as unnecessary for the moment, Roy was theoretically resting on Ed's bed in his room over the clinic. What he was actually doing was driving himself crazy with unanswerable questions.

Roy gave up and wandered downstairs to the tiny kitchen. Winry breezed by, box of screws in hand, and said, "Oh, good, you're up. Do you feel like cooking? We have a rush job, Granny and I will be in the workshop all night and the boys will just forget to eat if you don't feed them. If you don't want to cook, Mrs. Li on the corner usually has something edible." She rattled the box and frowned. "Granny! We are low on the three-thirty-seconds..." Winry ran out.

Roy examined Winry's pride and joy, a home refrigerating machine. As soon as he gripped the handle several of Al's cats turned up to twist around his ankles hopefully; it looked like an entire shelf was devoted to their scraps and chow. There was also a shelf of what Roy hoped were Ed's experiments - otherwise the ice box was in sore need of a good cleaning. He went for easily identifiable stuff and decided to make omelets and fried potatoes. After he fed the cats, of course.

Garfiel came in and brewed a pot of tea, managing to stay out of Roy's way - an impressive feat for a large man in the small space. He leaned against the counter and smiled at Roy. "I love a man who can cook."

"Any man can make an omelet." Roy sliced the onions and potatoes and put them on to heat while he diced the other vegetables.

"But they so rarely stay long enough to do so."

Roy changed the subject. "Are you assisting with the emergency?"

"The automail one, yes. I have no idea what bee in is Ed and Al's bonnets. What the Rockbells are doing is a rush replacement of a damaged automail foot - the lady in question is determined to dance at her wedding the day after tomorrow. I'm here because, frankly, Winry is brilliant with mechanics but she's ghastly at aesthetics. She can't imagine anything more beautiful than the natural automail itself. Whereas the customer wants the automail to have the same trim ankle and shapely calf as her natural leg." Garfiel set his teacup in the sink as the sounds of an argument drifted back. "That's my cue. Wish me luck." He waved and headed back to the workshop, calling "Ladies, ladies... stop screeching like fish wives."

Ed reappeared, no doubt attracted by the smell of cooking onions and garlic. He leaned over and stole a slice of tomato. "You are a real sport to cook for us, since you aren't going to get to eat any of that."

"Why won't I?"

"Because your preliminary numbers are in, and when Al sees them he's going to -"

"Go spare?" Roy guessed, cracking eggs into a bowl. "Come unhinged?"

Ed rolled his eyes. "Prep you for surgery right away." He dumped a fluffy marmalade cat out of a kitchen chair and sat down. "Al is the expert, but it looks like your body has decided to get rid of the extra organs its own way, and your white cell count is insane."

"About that - do you seriously think somehow parts of Elysia literally merged with me?"

"I thought we were clear on that. Point of fact, the parts you have are her ovaries and most of her womb. But its slightly cattawonky and mashing on your spleen and other soft bits. And it's not properly attached to anything, of course."

"But all of me is still here?"

"And presumably still works." Ed flashed Roy and understanding grin. "Berguet was a thief, his array wasn't set up to transfer anything back."

"It's a brilliant array," Al said as he joined them. "In a sick, twisted way. But we could adapt parts of it - think of it, transplanting a kidney or other much needed organ from a healthy, willing donor... I wonder why we never thought of that?"

"Not insane enough, probably." Ed took over chopping the peppers since Roy was busy at the stove.

"No one has ever accused us of that before. All right, General... Brother and I really should prep you and take those superfluous organs out tonight. You are just going to get sicker if we don't."

"What happens to a 16 year old girl who has a complete hysterectomy?" Roy asked quietly.

Al nudged a slinky grey cat with his leg so it moved just enough to allow him to sit down on the edge of the chair and share with it. "There isn't a lot of data on that. She'll never have children, obviously. She may lose some of her secondary sex characteristics and there are suggestions that women who don't bear children are vulnerable to certain types of cancer. Of course, women who do have children have a whole slew of health risks, too. We just don't know."

"The Xingians use some herbs to offset the effects of menopause, but I think that's mostly dealing with some of the more common symptoms.” Ed put in. “It's something Al can recommend to Elysia’s physician if she wants to explore it."

"Is her long term health in danger?"

Al sighed. "Probably. I'm sorry, but anytime you do something to a human body it wasn't meant to deal with, there are innumerable repercussions - most of which we can't detect and wouldn't understand if we did. It may shorten her life span, but by how much? There's no way to know."

"Before you start beating yourself up over this, Roy, keep in mind any one of us could get hit by a truck tomorrow. Elysia is alive now and that is only because you interfered."

A calico jumped up and claimed the third seat at the table. Roy wasn't up to displacing her; he leaned against the counter, instead. "Is there any way you could put the organs back?"

Ed and Al both blinked, then looked at each other. "Noooo," Al said slowly. "First, there is no way in good conscience we could use that array without a lot more research, and there just isn't time. Second, Elysia's in Aquroya. Third, your body is already attacking and damaging the organs. And yourself."

Roy's shoulders slumped. "I understand."

Idly drawing arrays on the table with his finger, Ed said casually, "We could just adapt Roy's body to accept the ovaries and womb."

Al's jaw dropped. "Yes, but why would the General want to be able to have a baby?"

Ed looked up and met Roy's eyes. "Because Elysia can't."


	4. Chapter 4

"Look," Ed said, quickly sketching out an array on the back of a takeout menu. The dinner dishes were pushed aside; Roy had been given permission to eat but had lost his appetite. The Elric brothers had no such difficulties. Winry, Pinako, and Garfiel were lucky to get any supper at all. "All the data and raw materials are at hand. We just move the flow so the womb drops into place here, then we mix some of Roy's genetic information with what's stored in Elysia's eggs."

"When you said before we weren't crazy enough, I assume you meant me, not you, right? This is the most insane thing you've come up with in a long while."

"You are talking about creating life, Ed," Roy protested.

"Creating life is easy. Millions of organisms do it every day. It doesn't even require a central nervous system."

"I require a central nervous system," Roy said. "In fact, I insist on it."

Ed waved his hand. "The fact is, humans make life all the time, too, and usually it's unintentional. Come on, guys, you know how to do this."

Roy rocked back as if struck as arrays flashed before his eyes. The Gate had allowed them to keep the knowledge it forced on them as a sort of apology gift, and while most what stuck with Roy was fire or military related, his memories did occasionally toss up other bits of trivia. Edward was right, they could do it, and it would work. The only rub was...

"There is a huge difference between creating life and sustaining it. Many women can't carry to term, and you want to have a man to do it?"

"I'm just saying, we could try. Whatever little spark of life comes about, we'll do our best to give it a fighting chance. That's as good as it gets for any unborn being."

"What are you talking about?" Winry asked as she carried in their dinner plates. "Who's having a baby?"

"Roy," Ed said, with just a hint of a smirk.

Roy protested, "I never actually agreed..."

Winry looked at Roy and then to Al. "But that's impossible!"

"Not alchemically."

"Have you lost your damn minds?" Winry gasped. "Remember what happened last time you tried to create someone with your alchemy?"

"That subject is off limits, Winry," Al said, as sharply as Roy had ever heard him speak.

"Everyone here knows what happened that night. I almost lost you both! I can't believe the General wants you to risk -"

"I certainly do not want to put anyone in danger-"

"Winry." Ed said, his voice calm, low, and lethal. "There is a huge difference between desperate children trying to recreate their mother from basic elements and experienced adults combining human ovum and sperm to allow life to generate naturally."

"You are talking about making a baby, not some science experiment!"

Al made a distressed noise. Roy, wisely, stayed silent. He wouldn't have been heard over Ed's retort, anyway.

"Yes, thank you, I do have some nodding acquaintance with ethics and am perfectly aware that children are not mere raw materials for scientific exploration."

"Shut up, Ed, that's not what I meant. What are you going to do if it works? You'll have a baby. Someone is going to have to spend the next eighteen years or so looking after it."

"What do you mean, if it works? Of course it will work, I wouldn't risk Roy's life if I wasn't sure!"

"You are going to turn everyone's life upside down just to prove some alchemical point!" Winry stabbed at Ed with her finger.

Ed's eyes narrowed. "What's it to you? No one asked you to step up."

Winry said dangerously, "What do you mean by that?"

"Guys..." Al tried.

"Shut up, Al," they said in unison. Al sighed. Roy rubbed the spot between his eyebrows that was starting to ache.

“Don’t worry, we won’t be leaving the baby with you, since you clearly do not like children.”

Winry gaped. “Whatever gave you the idea I don’t like kids?”

"It's not like you are planning on giving Al any, any time soon."

Al protested, "Brother!"

"It's none of your goddamn business when or if Al and I have children! At least we can have children, without having to resort to alchemy."

"I dunno, Win, you are getting a little long in the tooth, you can't blame a guy for exploring his options."

Winry drew back as if to punch him and Al jumped to his feet. "That's enough!"

Ed nodded, once, to Al, and went out the back door. Winry slammed the dishes into the sink and stormed off back to workshop. Al collapsed back into his seat.

"They are a lot alike," Roy observed mildly.

"Yes," Al sighed. "That must be why I love them both so much."

 

***

 

Ed was gone long enough for Roy and Al to clean the kitchen and move to Al's office.

"Miss Rockbell has a point, I can hardly go to Elysia with a newborn and say 'Here, I made this for you.'" Roy moved yet another cat and made himself comfortable in Al's leather side chair.

Al snorted. "No, we'd need to come up with some sort of cover story. If you are serious, you'd need a reason for taking most of year off work, too. I suspect the truth is not your best choice here."

"Only if I want to spend the rest of my life in a lab or an insane asylum."

"Maybe we can get adjoining cells." Ed came in with a bakery box and offered them little lemon cakes. By the pleased noises coming from the workshop, he'd already made his stop there and Winry had accepted the apology.

"Let's get down to brass tacks," Roy said. "You are sure this can be done? Using Elysia's genetic information?"

"If it's that important to you, yes. We can scavenge enough to give a complete matrix for the child. The rest will come from you."

"In essence, I would be having a baby with my goddaughter?"

"Don't wander off into moral gray areas and get lost, Roy." Ed said. "You have no biological tie to Elysia - well, before all this you didn't. Hughes and Gracia's information combined to make Elysia; that information is carrying forward to combine with yours to create the next generation."

"A baby which Miss Rockbell correctly pointed out can't be set aside if it becomes inconvenient afterwards."

"No one here is the kind of person who sets aside responsibilities. If something happens, like you get shot in the head, Al or I would take the kid in. Win, too, she loves kids, I know that, I was just being a horse’s ass."

"Of course," Alphonse affirmed. "Strongarm or Mrs. Hughes would help as well, I'm sure. Even without knowing the child's heritage."

"Because it was my son." Roy nodded. Of course they would. They were family. "So what are the risks?"

"You could die," Ed said promptly. "Roughly 4 in every 1000 women die in childbirth."

"That improves with proper medical attention," Al put in. "But what I said before, about forcing a body to do things it isn't meant to do, that stands. We have no idea what the long term effects will be."

"Well, will I turn into a woman? Will I still be able to function as a man?"

"There will be hormones involved," Ed said slowly. "We may have to do some adjustments after delivery, but there's no reason to change your name to Rachel or anything."

"It does put a strain on your internal organs, General, and there are studies that suggest the baby robs its mother of the calcium and other building blocks it needs. They aren't conclusive, there are too many variations of diet and health and genetics that need to be investigated, but it is something to take into consideration." Al fiddled with a pastry. "There are psychological factors, too. You will have to be very careful with yourself, and if the pregnancy progresses, you may find yourself literally in confinement - we will have to hide you and the pregnancy, and also, you may have to spend months in bed."

"Roy'd like that part; he's as lazy as a cat."

"Brother, be serious."

Ed shrugged. "Pack him off to Risenbool to the Rockbell Clinic, that's got to be remote enough. Tell everyone Roy is having automail surgery, a hip or knee, those go out fairly often. A couple months pre-surgery prep, surgery and recovery, post op healing and therapy. That would account for 6 months, at least."

Roy stood up. "I need to think about this."

"I'd like to think a life changing decision such as having a child is something you'd consider carefully, but the truth is, most people don't get the opportunity. I can give you a little time, General, but one way or the other, we need to take care of this soon for your own health and safety."

Roy bowed and took his leave, heading for the scrubby little garden in back of the clinic. He sat on a low stone wall, still warm from the day's heat, and tried to imagine himself with a baby. With Maes' baby, or at least, grandbaby. The actual pregnancy his mind skipped over, but the results, a tiny new version of people he loved... Roy smiled.

Ed joined him, silent as a shadow. "Do you need a sounding board?"

"Most of the big decisions in my life, there was no time to think it over. And afterward, there was no point."

Ed grinned. "My world in a nutshell. You decided, then?"

"Yes. You can add these to the list of words I thought I'd never say: knock me up."

 

***

Ed and Al had a rapport rare even among brothers - they could fire an array together without impeding the effects. The tricky part, as Ed explained, was adding in Roy.

"This would be easier if you weren't an alchemist yourself. Alchemists have this instinctive urge to grab control of arrays, especially if they are doing anything that could be perceived as an attack."

"I'll be good." Roy was sipping some of Garfiel's tea and peering at the symbols and calculations spread over the sheets of butcher paper that were filling Al's office.

"Not good enough," Al said. "We'll have to sedate you, it's the only way."

"We'll still need to factor in his Fire element, he's not The Flame Alchemist for nothing."

Amused and slightly flattered, Roy asked, "Should I go away and leave you two to it?"

"No, no, we want your opinion," Al protested. "This concerns you more than anyone, you should be here through the entire process."

"Yes, you are just distracting. Go take a nap." At Al's glare for directly contradicting him, Ed added defensively, "He's going to be unconscious! If Roy doesn't trust us now, why would he trust us then? We may as well hang it up and all go to bed."

"Maybe we should at that," Roy said, with a glance at the clock. "It's 3 am."

"The organs will be too damaged to guarantee results if we wait another 8 to 12 hours. We should do this tonight."

Taking command, Ed said, "Right. Roy, go make a pot of coffee and then read a book or something. We'll call you in about 45 minutes to prep."

"Mmm, coffee. Don't drink any yourself, Sir. Stick to the peppermint tea." Al picked up an eraser and changed a serpent into a dragon. Ed nodded approvingly and added the balancing salamander, scribbling mathematical notations on the side.

Roy saluted crisply but neither Elric noticed. He headed back to the kitchen to try and puzzle out the workings of Winry's fancy self heating percolating coffee pot. The calico descended from a kitchen chair and offered help by winding around his legs. Roy sighed and fished out some more cat chow from the ice box. "How much coffee do you put in? How do you get the percolator basket to stay in place?" She declined to give an opinion. "Some help you are."

Winry came in, yawning and stretching. "Are you talking to the cats? Is that a military habit or an alchemist one? Because Ed and Al do it too." She deftly took the coffee making equipment away from Roy and assembled it.

"It's most likely a hold over from the military. After a few years one seeks intelligent conversation at any opportunity."

Winry laughed. "I think if you want to discuss the merits of chicken gizzards vs mice you have found your audience."

"Are mice a problem in Rush Valley?"

"I've never noticed any, but that could be because Al knows every cat in a quarter mile radius personally. Sometimes Quicksilver - that's the gray one- leaves mangled bits on the porch but I've never examined them to see what they were. Mice used to be a real problem in Rizenbool, though." Winry lifted the coffee pot and looked questioningly at Roy.

"Not for me, I was making it for all of you."

"For Al, you mean. His addiction is as bad as mine. I'll take some in to everyone in a minute." Winry poured herself a cup first. She leaned against the cabinets as she sipped, sighing. "About earlier..."

"Your concerns were certainly merited."

"No, they weren't. Ed's right, none of us are ten years old anymore and I know he'd never willingly endanger anyone. Other than himself, the idiot. And of course you and Al have good sense. It's just... Ed measures all his happiness by the people around him. He acts like it's his God-given duty to do anything it takes to make sure all his friends and family are as content as possible."

"A noble goal," Roy murmured.

"An impossible one. For most people. That's the rub, really. When any other guy tells you he'll move heaven and earth for you, it's hyperbole. When an Elric says it, it's a fact. Sometimes... sometimes you don't want heaven and earth moved. Sometimes you just want to grumble a little and get over it."

"Ed of all people understands blowing off steam." Roy had been listening to Ed's bitching a good fifteen years at least.

"I don't know about that. I'm just saying, badly, that... Ed will fix things for you that maybe you didn't want fixed. And he is so positive, so focused, so sure of himself and the outcome that sometimes you don't even realize you didn't want it fixed until it's too late."

"I do want this." Roy said. "The idea of losing Maes completely sickens me. I want some part of him to go forward, after I'm gone, after Elysia." Winry was pouring out coffee and arranging cups and condiments on a tray. She glanced up and Roy smirked at her. "Of course, I'd rather Elysia was doing the carrying forward, but... I'm the only option right now."

"Well," Winry said, hefting the tray. "If it works, the next time Ed starts whining for a niece or nephew, I'll tell him to use the procedure on Al. Or have it himself!"

***

"Move your left arm up a little," Ed commanded. He was painting even more glyphs on Roy's body.

"Are you comfortable, General?" Al asked.

"No," Roy admitted, as he obeyed Ed. "Do I really have to do this nude?"

"You're getting pregnant. Someone should be naked. At least you won't have to sleep in the wet spot."

"Brother!" Al swatted at Ed. "Clothing will only be in the way of the imaging array, Sir."

Roy groaned and let his head drop back to bump the cool sandstone floor of Al's workshop. Underneath him, array covered butcher paper crinkled. "I thought you were going to knock me out."

"You don't want to watch the set up?"

Ed leaned over into Roy's line of vision. "Are you getting cold feet? Because now is the time to call this off. Say the word."

"No, get on with it."

Ed and Al exchanged looks. "Just lie back and think of Amestris," Ed ordered, and they both clapped.

 

***

Roy woke up in the hospital bed in the Clinic. The calico was basking in the window, and Pinako was seated by his bed, filling her pipe. She nodded to him.

"So far so good," Pinako offered to Roy's unspoken question. "The first few weeks are the most critical. Women spontaneously abort all the time, often without ever knowing they were pregnant. You don't have the luxury of trying again next month, however."

"I don't feel any different."

"Yet." Pinako looked outside for while, gathering her thoughts. Roy, still slightly muddled by whatever the Elric's had used to knock him out, followed her gaze but saw nothing more significant than the cat and the back wall.

"As the person most familiar with pregnancy, and in fact the only one in the building besides Momma Cat who ever had a baby, I've been instructed to offer advice." She sighed. "Historically, I am terrible at advice. Certainly I never did those boys any good."

"I'm sure you have more to offer than Momma Cat."

Pinako snorted. "I don't know about that. Her advice would be as good as mine - avoid sweet singing males with pretty white paws, and once the kids leave home, don't let them move back in."

"I'll try to remember that." Most of the men Roy knew wore white gloves, but he wasn't aware of any who sang.

"You are a practical man, General Mustang," Pinako said. "So I will be blunt. The only thing more painful than having a child is losing one. And I'm not talking childbirth. Every time that child cries other than tears of joy, you will feel like you failed. Most of the time it's not true, but you'll feel it, anyway."

"Actually, I'm rather used to that feeling."

"Fair enough. Stupid little things like the kid bringing you a pretty rock can make your whole day, too. It's a constant roller coaster of joy and misery and hard work and it never ends. You never want it to end." She sucked on her pipe and looked away, probably thinking about her own son, now gone. "Grandkids are a nice surprise, though. Much less stress. Try to live long enough to have a few of those."

"I will."

"All right. No drinking or smoking or spicy food. Once Al gives the okay, moderate exercise, like walking, nothing jarring like martial arts or steeple chase. When the nausea hits, it's been my experience that the best thing is a combination of sour and starchy bland - like pickles and soda crackers or lemonade and plain baked potato. Ginger beer is a classic remedy but it's a horror to throw up, let me tell you. Peppermint tea is better, it comes up as nice as it goes down. Not everyone gets morning sickness, mind. That's a myth." Roy sighed with relief until Pinako continued. "Most of us were sick all damn day."

Roy groaned and Pinako grinned at him. "Things to think about: who is going to look after the babe while you are at work? Do you want to remain on active duty or switch to less dangerous job where you can devote more time to your child? Names, names are important, they have books of names with nonsense about meanings and destinies and all that. My advice: pick something that sounds good yelled out the back door at supper time."

"I thought you didn't give good advice."

"Time will tell, time will tell. One thing, maybe it's different for men, but when women see a man with a baby their first thought is: 'Where is its mother?'. You will have to come up with a good lie - and tell your Miss Hawkeye the truth. She'll be hurt by anything less."

"Whirl wind romance and she died in childbirth?"

Pinako shook her head. "You'd mention her in letters. You'd mourn her. There would be pictures, a wedding. Your friends will wonder why they weren't invited and what you are hiding. Someday, the baby will ask and then what?" 

"I could tell the truth, but as Al said, it's not my best choice. I think they'd put all of us in an insane asylum."

"Just you," Pinako said cheerfully. "Ed, Al and I would go to prison and the baby would be lucky to end up in an orphanage and not a lab."

"Those days are past," Roy said firmly. "It would be more a social sigma, which I could endure but I wouldn't want to endanger Al's career. I'd rather not put my son through it, either."

"I'm thinking... you were contacted by some distant relation in a bad way and you have adopted the child. Some of your cronies will assume the baby is your bastard but no one is going to say it out loud."

"If I am going to lie, I may as well go the whole way and make it some cousin of mine and Maes' from out west. Make us third cousins or something. I don't think even Gracia knows all of his past."

"Just make sure you know that lie backwards and forwards. We are all going to be telling it for the rest of our lives."

***

Roy spent the rest of the day lounging in bed, per Al's orders. Various cats joined him throughout the day. He read Alchemical Journals, napped, and drank a lot of tea and broth. Garfiel sent over some drink made of seeds and cinnamon and vanilla, which Roy found soothing and delicious. By sundown, Roy was feeling better than he had since he'd gotten Elysia's phone call.

"I need to catch the late train back to Central."

"With all due respect, Sir, I think you should stay here, in bed, another day at least." Al bustled about, checking Roy's vitals, while Ed lounged near the door.

"You say that only because Hawkeye won't shoot you."

Ed offered, "You know your office is too well organized to go down the slots if you don't come in for a few days. Any decent military operation makes sure no one is indispensable."

"That is the rub, you see. I don't want them to find out they can do just as well without me. I'm too old to go looking for a new job at this point."

"Especially not now that you have a baby on the way."

Al patted Roy's arm. "Give yourself another day at least and take the late train back tomorrow. It will be cooler and less crowded. I'll call Miss Hawkeye for you if you want." She always did have a soft spot for Al and he came as close as any man to being able to wrap her around his finger, although Ed could get away with a lot, too. It was the eyes, Roy decided. Riza had some sort of weakness for yellow eyes. It explained much about her choices in dogs and cats.

"I'll send her a telegram if one of you will run it over for me." Roy reached for a pad and pencil.

Ed volunteered and Al immediately added an order from the Xingian Pharmacy. Winry requested supplies from the millwrights three blocks over and Pinako handed him a grocery list. Ed groaned. "I'll be back in time for dinner. I hope."

"Take your time," Roy said. "I'll be here discussing the variables of Cretan hieroglyphics and their use in classic Alchemy with ah..." he looked at the large orange tom currently sharing his bed.

"Mister Fluffybutt," Ed supplied.

"The cat," Roy finished.

"I didn't name him," Al said defensively.

 

***

Mr. Fluffybutt turned out to be one of those annoying collaborators who had nothing to contribute but criticized everything Roy wrote, mainly by attacking his pencil. Roy finally gave up and let the cat have the damn thing. As he watched Fluffy bat the pencil around the clinic, Roy wondered idly how anything ever got written back in the days of quill pens. Then he wondered just what was in that vanilla and cinnamon stuff Garfiel had sent over that was making him so whimsical.

The telephone rang and Roy could hear the rise and fall of Winry's voice as she talked to whoever was on the line. Roy was approaching that comfortably bored state of mind where a nap becomes an actual issue worth contemplation. Mr. Fluffybutt clearly voted in favor; he abandoned the pencil (lost under a tabaret) and curled himself at Roy's feet. Roy was about to second it when Winry peeked in, the heavy Bakelite telephone in hand.

"Elysia wants to talk to you."

Startled, Roy nodded and reached out his hand. His heart sped up with worry and guilt, but he managed to keep his voice steady when he greeted his goddaughter. "Sweetheart? How are you?"

"Uncle Roy! You said you weren't mad at me but you didn't reply to my letter or return my phone calls!"

"I'm not angry with you, how could I be? I am simply not at home. I look forward to reading your letter when I get there, it should be tomorrow or Wednesday."

"I know that now, but only because I called Miss Hawkeye and she told me." Elysia never liked it when Roy varied his routine. "What's wrong? Why are you at the clinic? Is it... I knew you got hurt in the accident, I knew it!"

"Elysia, I'm fine." Roy rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Tell me how you are, I'm worried about you."

"No, you answer first. Why are you in Rush Valley?"

So like her father in so many ways. Roy smiled. "Ed and Al and Miss Rockbell and her grandmother are all here."

"I know that, they live there with a million cats. But you never leave Central just to visit, when you want to see people you make them come to you. You hate to travel. So you must be really sick. What's wrong?"

"Do I make you come to see me?" Roy wondered.

"Of course you do, Uncle Roy. Stop trying to change the subject or I'll tell Uncle Alex you are really sick and need help."

Just like her father. Roy pouted. "I thought you liked to come see me, I didn't realize I forced-"

"Uncle Roy. Uncle Alex is in the next room. All I have to do is raise my voice a little. Like this. 'Oh Uncle Roy, are you badly hurt?'"

"I have a bad knee," Roy lied quickly. "I did a lot of sports when I was younger. Hurdling is hard on the knees. The Elrics and the Rockbells are working on an experimental type of automail to replace just the joint, so I can walk easier."

There was a pause as Elysia considered the likelihood of that. "Well, you are kind of old."

Roy winced. "Thank you, Sweetheart."

"I didn't mean it like that! I mean, Mom has tennis elbow, and I saw all those pictures and medals and stuff from your track and field days at the Academy. You and Dad and Uncle Alex, I mean."

"Never play tennis with your mother. She has a vicious backhand."

Elysia giggled. "Is that why you won't play her anymore? She beat Uncle Alex yesterday, too."

"So you are having a good time in Aquroya?"

"It's lovely and everyone is very nice about what happened. Mom and Uncle Alex explained some things and I think I hate Stephen now. If he hurt you too then I know I hate him."

Was hating him an improvement? It sounded better to Roy, who could honestly say he hated the little weasel. "Are you really all right, Sweetheart?"

There was a long pause. "I can't have babies anymore." Elysia was silent while Roy tried to think what to say. "I didn't want to be pregnant when I was but now that I can't I'm not sure what to think."

"It's not something you have to worry about right now, Sweetheart. Give yourself a little time."

"Yeah," Elysia sighed. "I talked to Winry and she said there is more to being a woman than reproducing and not to worry about it. Momma - Mom said I could always adopt and not to worry about it. ...Uncle Alex said I shouldn't even consider children for at least 10 years and by then Ed and Al would have invented some way to fix it. And not to worry about it."

Attempting to lighten the mood, Roy said, "The consensus being not to worry about it."

"Not for ten years, a least. But you might want to poke Ed and Al and tell them what they are supposed to be fixing."

"Duly noted. What are you doing about school?"

"Uncle Alex hired a tutor but I was ahead in most of my classes anyway. I want to go back next term but Mom thinks I should transfer to another school. You have to talk to her, Uncle Roy, all my friends go there!"

"You make friends where ever you go, Sweetheart. Let's wait and see, all right?"

"Fine." Elysia said, sounding put upon. "I'll just hang around here and be my mom's chaperone."

"Oh? Something I should know about?"

Elysia lowered her voice. "I think Uncle Alex is going to ask Mom to marry him."

Carefully, Roy said, "How do you feel about that?"

"I love it, of course. The only thing better would be you asking. Only you and mom are more like Winry and Ed."

"Your father was my brother, at least in my heart, and that makes your mother my sister and you my niece. So no, we couldn't get married."

"True, and anyway, if you married anyone it would Miss Hawkeye, right?"

"I would ask her before any woman, yes."

"But you won't ask, will you?" Elysia said, and laughed.

 

***

 

"Glad you could make it, Mustang," Brigadier General Dornier said dryly. "We were afraid the Fuhrer would have to do without his pastries." Dornier hated Roy with a loathing typical of men who were Brigadier Generals when Roy was a Lieutenant Colonel and were still BG’s now that he outranked them.

Roy smiled at him and set a bakery box before Grummand, who opened the box with the glee of a small child. "I would never inflict such cruelty on Amestris' high command."

"You must tell me where you get these, Mustang," Grummand said, scattering crumbs. "I could order you to tell. I should."

Affecting a pout, Roy said, "But if I did, you'd have no reason to invite me to all the secret meetings."

General Bell said reasonably, "What if you were struck by a bus? Consider the consequences of these being lost forever." Bell had been unpopular for his pro-civilian views and posted far west as a punishment. He was brought back to Central after the Promised Day left Amestris short on Generals. He and Roy got along famously, trading stories of the Wild West and sly jokes.

Grummand took two more and reluctantly passed the box down the line. "At least give the location with your adjutant when you go."

"Mustang is leaving us?" General Piper was holding the bakery box, waffling. He finally passed the box on without taking one. Roy knew Mrs. Piper had warned the general he would look like a walrus stuffed in a casing at their daughter's wedding if he didn't lose some weight. Personally, Roy thought getting rid of the mustache would be enough.

"A leave of absence," Roy said blithely. "Six months or so."

"Alchemical?" Junkers had supported Roy's efforts to disband the State Alchemists and to allow the AAA to take over supervision, largely because he blamed 'crazed alchemists' for the death of his beloved Fuhrer Bradley. Junkers was of the opinion that all alchemists were likely to go insane at a moment’s notice and wreak havoc on the countryside. Roy only played on that fear a little, partially because Junkers was a good commander, careful with his men and other resources and partially because Hawkeye had called Roy on it and made him promise to stop teasing the man.

"Medical."

Dripping fake concern, Dornier asked, "Eyes bothering you again?"

"Leg, if you must know."

"Bit young for that, aren't you?" Junker said suspiciously. 

Roy shrugged and leaned back in his chair, allowing a shaft of sunlight to play over the medals on his left breast. One red ribbon was for being 'wounded in the line of duty' and it showed to advantage, especially the 3 small gold clusters on it denoting it had happened more than twice. The others were not nonobservant men; they took the hint and shut up.

"Going for automail surgery, wasn't it? Great stuff, plenty of men on active duty now who would have been retired without it." Grummand paused to savor another bite of the pastry. "I suppose we'll be able to telegram you if something needing your expertise turns up?"

"Like the Fuhrer gets a craving for raspberry blondies," Bell said, laughing.

"My staff will remain here, at your service. Colonel Breda will be in temporary command. My physician and mechanic inform me there is a period, before and particularly after, the surgery where I will be unable to travel."

"Take care of yourself, Mustang," Grummand said, picking up the neatly typed agenda for the meeting. "Just don't forget to tell your Maj. Hawkeye about the pastries."

***

Alphonse had returned to Central with Roy. He had a medical conference coming up and had been asked to arrive early for some consultations. Al had quite the reputation and Roy was every bit as proud of him as Ed was.

Roy was enjoying himself. Al was an excellent guest - busy during the day as was Roy himself, but a lively and intelligent dinner conversationalist. One that insisted on doing the washing up, afterwards. Roy knew one reason Al had agreed to stay with him instead of at the Hotel where the Conference was being held was so that he could monitor Roy's health and the baby's progress. Not that the baby was more than a tiny cluster of cells at this point. Whatever was going on inside Roy's body, it was an improvement over how he felt before. The niggling malaise and pains were gone, as was the fever and constant nausea.

They hammered out the details of how, why and when Roy would have to rusticate to hide the signs of the growing fetus. Roy's cover story, affectionately known as Big Lie Number One, was that the Elrics and Rockbells had talked him into participating in an experimental joint replacement automail surgery. Al recommended hip surgery, pointing out that Xingian doctors already did this using replacements carved of ivory. It had the added advantage of presuming Roy would be bedridden for a time, something complications in the pregnancy could make reality.

Details and facts were confirmed with numerous telephone calls to Winry, Pinako, and Ed. Roy knew his phone was tapped - Grummand hadn't survived the last regime without learning a few tricks - but to anyone listening in, the conversations sounded exactly what they were: a man exploring all his options before agreeing to painful surgery that would keep him away from his job for months. Finally fully confident, Roy approached Grummand privately before the staff meeting and requested extended medical leave. To his credit, Grummand's immediate concerns had been Roy's health and welfare.

That left only two more hurdles: fabricating Big Lie Number Two (where the baby came from) and telling Riza Hawkeye the truth. Roy thought long and hard about not telling her, but Pinako was right, she deserved to know. He felt that Elysia, Gracia, and Alex also deserved to be in the loop, but Roy couldn't convince himself they would appreciate his actions. He waffled over that, finally determining he had months to decide. No point in upsetting everyone if the baby could not survive to term, after all.

Roy invited Riza for dinner Friday night. Al politely declined to join them, pleading a prior commitment with some friends he hadn't seen since Med School.

"You are going to make me do this on my own?"

"I think it will go better for the privacy." Al said diplomatically.

"She's less likely to shoot me in front of a witness."

"Well, I feel Miss Hawkeye should be allowed that option."

Roy laughed. "I'll call you right out of your supper to stitch me up when she does."

Mock seriously, Al said, "Tell her not to aim for your middle."

***

Although Roy knew it would put Hawkeye on her guard, he couldn't resist going all out for their intimate dinner party. He was not as gregarious as Maes or Al, but Roy enjoyed entertaining and he put on a nice spread. Delicate porcelain plates from Xing, silver shined to a high polish, Riza's favorite flowers as the centerpiece. He fixed prime rib, knowing Black Hayate would appreciate the bones, and planned to serve it with simple baked potatoes and fresh tossed salad. Dessert was strawberry pie. Roy decanted the wine and was at the door, dapper and smooth, when Hawkeye knocked.

"Come in, you look wonderful." Hawkeye had her hair up, and was wearing an elegant black evening dress of some clinging material. She wore a lace jacket over it; the complicated pattern of the jacket blended and obscured the tattoos on her back. A collar of triple strands of pearls completed the outfit. Roy felt bad sometimes, looking at how beautiful Riza was, that she had to go to such pains to hide the scars of her life.

"I didn't want to damage your reputation by looking dowdy when I arrived," she said dryly. Riza offered her version of a host's gift - newspapers from the East, South, West and North, fresh off the trains.

"Never that." Roy accepted the papers with a grin, and crouched down to greet the little dog by Hawkeye's side. Black Hayate's muzzle was nearly solid white, and his eyebrows had turned as well, but he was still the energetic and loyal little companion from their salad days. "I cooked a bone for you," Roy informed the dog. The enthusiastic wagging increased as if Black Hayate understood every word. Roy ushered them both in and mixed Riza a drink. Now the two of them would spend the evening playing a sort of game in which Riza pointedly refused to ask and Roy pointedly refused to tell her what was going on. Hawkeye always won.

They made it through the cocktail hour on small talk, mainly Roy catching Riza up on the doings at the Rockbell-Elric Clinic. Hawkeye noticed right away that Roy was drinking lemonade and soda water and set her drink aside. He sidestepped her questioning look by serving dinner.

Roy turned on the radio for some dinner music. The orchestra added a touch of romance that was clearly making Riza uneasy. He would have turned it back off, but Roy needed the noise to cover the sounds of Black Hayate gnawing bones in the kitchen. Riza at least relaxed enough to laugh when he explained.

Finally, Roy gathered up his courage and turned the conversation to Elysia and what had happened in Dublith. It was a far cry from appropriate table talk, but Roy, predictably, had cracked first and had to get his secret off his chest. Also he was rather afraid he was going to throw up if the dog didn't stop with the slurping sounds.

Roy explained what Berguet had been up to and the intention of the original array. Riza had grown up with Alchemists and understood the basics well enough to be horrified. Roy told her about entering the array and the effect it had on all three of them. By now, Hawkeye had set her fork down and was listening intently, her sherry colored eyes wide with shock. The more Roy talked, the crazier it sounded. He should have practiced this out loud beforehand. He always practiced his lies; it was foolishness to think the truth would come more easily. It occurred to Roy exactly what it was Winry had been trying to warn him of - that Edward Elric could make the most batshit insane plan sound reasonable, logical, and doable. It wasn't that Ed talked Roy into it, but that Ed had made it seem so practical. Roy's voice trailed off.

Silence, for almost a full minute. Roy tried to meet Riza's gaze, but was forced to look away and toy with his food after a bit.

"Pregnant." Her voice was as flat and final as the slam of a gavel.

"In a manner of speaking."

"In any manner of speaking. That is the definition of pregnant, is it not? Carrying an unborn baby inside your body?"

"Yes."

"Well," Riza said, picking up her fork again. "I hope you are taking a good prenatal vitamin."

Roy covered his face with his hand and laughed helplessly.


	5. Chapter Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Business as usual.

Over the remains of dinner, Roy outlined Big Lie Number one. Riza listened attentively, interrupting only to confiscate Roy's wine glass and the rest of the bottle. She set them firmly by her side, out of his reach.

"Wine doesn't count."

"Wine counts. After dinner, I'll need to borrow a box or crate so I can take the contents of your bar with me when I leave."

"I have more self-control than that." Roy protested. "And what if I need to entertain?"

"Tell them you aren't physically up to it until after the surgery. You should start walking with a cane, too." Riza gathered up her plates and reached for Roy's.

"Leave that, I'll get it later."

"No you won't, you'll leave it for Alphonse."

Roy smirked at her. He didn't have a problem with that. God knew Roy had done his time cleaning up after Al. Well, his brother, anyway. Politically if not physically.

They repaired to the kitchen, to the delight of Hayate. Roy was relieved that the little dog had progressed past the noisier phases of bone bliss and was at the point where he just held the bone between his paws and napped on it.

Riza vetoed Roy's suggestion of coffee, leaving him to grumble, "Pinako didn't mention coffee. Just alcohol and strenuous exercise."

"I don't know the effects of caffeine on a baby but I know if you start drinking coffee now you'll never get to sleep tonight." Riza slipped out of her lace jacket and tied an apron around herself.

"I'm off tomorrow," Roy reminded her. He hung his dinner jacket over Riza's on the back of a kitchen chair and took a second apron out of the drawer. "Wash or dry?"

"I'll wash. And no, you're not, you are officiating at the Track and Field Events at the Academy."

"Damn, I forgot all about that. I'll have to make a speech, too. I'll write it in the morning." Roy sighed and wrapped several bones in paper for Hayate.

Dryly, Riza said, "Whatever would you do without me?"

"I honestly don't know." Impulsively, Roy added, "We should get married."

Riza threw him a look over her shoulder and went back to smoothing sudsy water over a plate. "No."

Roy was more shocked than Riza that he'd even asked. He wasn't sure if he was disappointed or relieved she refused. He did know he was mildly insulted. "Why not?" he pouted. "We rub along very well together, it would solve all the problems with Big Lie Number Two, and you know I've always loved you." Roy never said it out loud, but she had to know. Riza knew everything about him.

She took the time to rinse the plate and set it in the drain board before turning to face Roy. "First, there is the fact that we could not work together if we were married. One of us would be expected to retire and keep house and despite your current delicate condition, I suspect it would be me."

"I could still do the cooking."

Riza's lips twitched. "The next point is: 'rubbing along very well together' is not exactly the passion inspired declaration a young girl dreams of."

"Oh come on, we're not kids anymore and you know what I meant." Was she hinting that Roy Mustang didn't know how to romance a woman? Alright, he'd never tried to do it seriously before but his track record spoke for itself.

"Roy," she said, and Riza only called him Roy when she was about to remind him of an absolute truth. Typically one he'd chosen to ignore. "I don't want to spend my wedding night beating you at cribbage."

They locked gazes and finally Roy bowed slightly, acknowledging defeat. "You deserve better."

"I do. I may have found him, too."

Roy raised an eyebrow. "Oh?" He was trying to think if he'd noticed Riza stepping out with any young buck more than once. He'd sic Alphonse on Riza to find out who it was so he and Alex could do a background check.

"Stop that. You will not investigate him like a murder suspect. And that brings us to the next reason: one cannot marry one's big brother."

That mollified Roy enough for him to lean over and place a very chaste, brotherly kiss on her forehead. "I will find out who your beau is, you know."

Riza responded by flicking soap suds and threatening him with the dishcloth. "You will mind your own business. It will be good training for your child rearing years to come." She went back to washing dishes. Subject closed.

Roy lounged against the ice box and watched her work. "It means a lot to me that I have your support in this."

"It's not the first time you endangered The Plan for Maes Hughes." There was no trace of bitterness in her voice.

Defensively, Roy said, "It was always his plan to begin with."

"Is that why you've let it slide since his death?"

"Let it slide! We did get rid of all the homunculi and most of the upper echelon corruption."

"Twelve years ago."

"I haven't exactly been twiddling my thumbs since then. I am the youngest Major General in the country's history."

"It only took you eleven years to go from Private to full Colonel."

But Hughes was alive, then. Roy sighed. "Your grandfather is doing a good job. The country is settling down, prospering even. Stability is the important thing right now. Among other things it reminds our enemies not to attack us."

"You are giving up The Plan." It was not a question.

"No."

"Yes. You will have a child. You won't want to leave it with a nanny and work 16 hour days. Children change priorities." Riza dropped the last of the silverware into the basket clipped to the drain board.

"No. If anything, a baby would help me regain some momentum. The original plan was to be in a position to help and protect people. I admit I slowed down a little when I realized that everyone was about as safe as they were going to get - and that in 50 years, no one I cared about would even be alive. Or if they were, they'd be so elderly they couldn't be considered much of a threat."

"Edward thinks you should run for President."

"I'm not sure I want that job."

"He would consider that a point in your favor." Riza gestured to the still wet dishes in the drain board and arched a brow.

Roy snapped his fingers and the dishes dried in a waft of steam. He laughed at her sigh of exasperation. "If they had a popular, write-in vote today, it's Ed who would be President, not me."

"Edward in politics?"

They both shuddered. Roy manfully changed the subject to something less terrifying.

"So. Want to learn how to make my Famous Raspberry Sandies?"

***

The Association Board Meetings were informal, and when Ed was Director, always held at restaurants. The Maître d' smiled at Roy and showed him to the private room reserved for the Amestrian Alchemical Association. Already hopeful applicants thronged the hall outside of the banquet room, some of them startlingly young. Roy nodded politely as he passed by, and got a few bows in return. More respect for his General's uniform and medals than his Alchemy, but that was all right. The one they were waiting for was Fullmetal, the People's Alchemist.

Chen Ri, the Xingian Alkestrist, was already seated and discussing the menu with Angus Tran, the Geogenous Alchemist. Roy headed to the chair next to Chen, deciding that Geogenous would spend the meeting arguing with the Pome Alchemist, Marie DeVries. It was better to sit across from them and watch than have them fight over one's head.

"A cane, Flame? You are injured?"

"Indiscretions of my youth coming back to haunt me." Walking with the cane was irritating, but Hawkeye was right, it lent credence to Big Lie One. Roy hoped his acting skills were up to faking the increased discomfort that would make the 'operation' mandatory. Currently he felt fantastic, and Al had agreed he and the fetus were stable enough not to need constant supervision. So far the experiment was an unqualified success.

"What I remember of your salad days, Flame, your indiscretions would require housing and education, not a walking stick." Geogenous had been a State Alchemist and active duty military like Roy. Since Edward insisted that all Alchemists were of the same rank, Lt. Col. Tran liked to try and one-up Maj. General Mustang.

Roy smirked and sat down, only to stand up again as the Pome Alchemist entered.

"Nice to see one of you is a gentleman," Marie DeVries said acidly. Her comment was aimed at Geogenous, who had his back to the door and didn't see her enter. Chen didn't rise either, but in his culture, all other things being even, an older man did not owe any duties of politeness to a young woman.

"Only by an act of Congress," Roy murmured.

Geogenous flushed. "We're all equals here, Pome. I'm assuming you know how to pull out a chair and sit down without help?"

She did so, commenting, "We should order. Fullmetal is out front giving an impromptu lesson to a flock of kindergartners."

"Children are the future," Chen said approvingly.

"He's a complete ham," Pome sniffed.

"The man is a brilliant Alchemist," protested Geogenous. "A genius."

"He's a genius, a brilliant Alchemist, and a complete ham," Roy said, closing his menu. "I'm going to try the Chicken a la King."

***

Roy ordered for Ed, knowing what the kid liked - large servings, no milk. Fullmetal himself appeared the same time as the food, something Roy could not consider wholly coincidental.

"Sorry about that, the kids were asking a lot of great questions." Ed slipped into his seat at the head of the table and beamed at the mound of noodles and meat balls set before him. "We'll do the formal meeting thing after we eat, all right? I heard we lost the Grey Alchemist, did any of you know him?"

"I met him once," Geogenous said. "His specialty was stone shaping, I think. He had that lung disease miners get."

"There are many, alas." Chen sipped his tea.

"Something we can work on, I have a lot of friends who are miners, I'd like to have them avoid that future. Grey left his library to the Association, anyone want to oversee cataloging and shipping that to First National?"

"I'll do it," Pome offered. "The obituary said he was from Westfield, I have some orchards near there I want to visit."

"And get first dibs on any rare books," Geogenous snarked.

"I didn't hear you volunteering!"

"I didn't get the chance! You are in such a hurry to fill out your own collection -"

"You can both go, how's that?" Ed sampled the noodles and closed his eyes, savoring.

"I don't think that will work out."

Pome sneered, "How like you to protest and then refuse to do anything about it. We should change your title to 'Dog in the Manger' Alchemist."

"I can think of a title for you, too, and it goes with that theme very well." Geogenous slammed down his fork.

"Did you just call me a b-?!"

"For the love of god," Roy interrupted wearily, "Just kiss and get it over with."

Dead silence reigned for several heartbeats. Ed was frozen with a forkful of noodles half way to his mouth, staring at Roy like he'd just sprouted a second head. A slow grin spread over his face. Marie and Angus were dazed and open mouthed, but both starting to blush. Roy knew he'd guessed correctly about the true source of their animosity and felt his own smirky smile grow.

Chen Ri cackled, "Apple orchards and libraries are excellent places for young lovers to meet."

"So that's offered, seconded, and I approve. You guys split up the books and get married." Fullmetal rapped the table to make it official. "That off the agenda, who wants dessert?"

 

***

Roy, playing the part of a slightly disabled veteran, lingered after the meeting closed. Chen Ri ambled out with Angus and Marie, acting as a doting chaperon and gleefully fanning their arguments as his contribution to the budding romance. Ed was busy stuffing the stacks of paperwork necessary to run an organization as complex as the Association into a clever folding wagon.

"Did Miss Rockbell design that for you?"

"I transmuted something like and she improved it, yeah. I told her she should market it, think of all those little old ladies struggling to lug cat food home from the butcher shop."

"In my day, an enterprising lad would make a few pennies or at least score some cookies carrying groceries for them." Roy leaned on his cane. He caught his reflection in the glass door and approved.

"They had cats when you were a lad?" Ed asked, all innocence. He grinned at the narrow eyed look Roy cut to him. "Speaking of old men -"

"I wasn't aware we were," Roy said glacially.

"I saw Hohenheim."

"Your father is still alive?"

Ed made a face. "Bumped into him at a train station out west. He runs a school in some dinky town near the Cetran boarder and flirts with all the widows for his supper." He shrugged. "I told him I could put in a good word for him with the Association and get him certified, and he said he didn't have much use for Alchemy these days. That pretty much killed the conversation right there."

Roy made a sympathetic noise. He was well aware that Alchemy was the mainstay of Edward's conversation on a good day, and that it was possibly the only thing Ed could discuss politely with his father.

"I told him to call Al sometime and he said he would, but we both knew he wouldn't. He told me to drop by when I was in the neighborhood and I said I would, and we both knew I was lying. I never was so glad to hear a train steamin' down the tracks."

"I'm sorry, Edward." For what, Roy wasn't sure. It saddened him that Ed and Al had no real connection to their biological father, but then, maybe Sig Curtis, Maes Hughes, Alex Armstrong and Roy himself managed to fill the gap.

Ed deftly buckled his books and papers into the carryall. "Eh. He turns up once a decade or so, nice to have it out of the way for the next ten years." He towed the little wagon behind him, holding the door for Roy. "I'll tell you one thing, though... he hasn't aged a bit. Makes you wonder."

"If he still has the philosopher's stone?"

"Or how long Xerxesans lived naturally. It will be a pain in the ass to live to be two hundred years old."

"Given your lifestyle in your youth, I'm surprised you lived to be twenty."

Ed confessed sheepishly, "I never planned to."

 

***

Charlotte Davis had been a gay, fun loving girl, and a fairly competent alchemist. She and Roy had gone out a few times back when they were in school; then on her first post out of the Academy, while she was still contemplating trying for the State Alchemist's watch, Charlotte married her commanding officer. Roy tried to talk her out of giving it all up, but fear of being sent to the front, coupled with the admittedly plush lifestyle of a high ranking officer's wife sealed the deal as far as Charlotte was concerned. Roy sent a pair of silver candlesticks and his best wishes and forgot all about her.

Twenty plus later he was kissing Charlotte's hand as they were reintroduced at a charity dinner hosted by Mrs. Bradley. "I knew you in an instant, you haven't changed a bit."

"Neither have you, you liar." Charlotte had aged well and she knew it. Her quick assessing glance said she noticed Roy also carried his years easily. Roy was regretting the walking stick, even if it did ad an air of raffishness.

Politeness required they get the next bit out of the way as soon as possible. "Sorry to hear about Murcheon."

"You did warn me not to marry him."

"I felt Murcheon's gain would be Amestris' loss."

"Mmm. You were right, but that's water under the bridge now that I am enjoying the perks of being a General's widow."

"What perks are those?" Roy held the chair for her.

"The possibility of being a General's wife again."

Smiling, Roy settled in for an evening of 'What ever happened to...?'. Charlotte had always been a consummate flirt and it was fun to play the game with another expert. Barbs traded during the fish course convinced Roy they still had some chemistry, and by the time the cheese was presented he knew he would not be spending the night alone. It was lingering over coffee after that it occurred to Roy he had no idea if there would be any repercussions due to his current state.

It wasn't like he could sneak off to the telephone and call for information. And who could he ask? There were some things one could not discuss with one's doctor if said physician was also a boy one had a hand in raising. Pinako was probably the best informed but asking was unthinkable. Madame was an expert on all things sexual, but a telegram from Roy asking 'is it safe to have intercourse while pregnant?' would only have her on the next train to Central. And Roy never could lie to her.

Edward was actually more approachable on certain subjects, but Roy could guess his response would be along the lines of 'you're an alchemist - experiment!'. Try it and find out was all very well for determining if certain functions still, well, functioned. Roy was an unmarried healthy adult male and it hadn't taken him long to make that particular test. However, the ability to please oneself was not the same as pleasing a lady, and there was his reputation at stake, too. Also, since sex could be a strenuous activity - if one did it correctly, at least, and Roy prided himself on his skills there - would it have a dolorous effect on the baby?

Edward had mentioned that hormones would be involved, so logic suggested there would be a point at which Roy could no longer get an erection. Or possibly he simply wouldn't be interested. Roy tried to imagine himself in that state. Nine months was a long time to abstain. The last time he'd gone more than two months without sex had been because he'd been in the hospital for seven weeks. Clearly he should take advantage of opportunities that presented themselves before this unhappy occurrence.

Women had sex while pregnant, they must. Most women didn't even know they were gravid until further along than Roy was currently. Of course, they were designed to carry babies and Roy was just a poor emergency substitute. There was also Big Lie One to consider. Roy had no idea how much a bad hip would impede a man's performance in bed, but he had to assume that if it was bad enough to require surgery it would be a factor. Should he plead infirmity? Offer alternatives?

Did he even have the right to take the risk? Roy had committed himself to this project and to Maes' descendant and what kind of rat bastard would endanger it all now for a tumble with a woman he hadn't even thought about in twenty years?

A particularly well shaped woman who was currently making nibbling a bonbon an obscene act. Parts of Roy's anatomy made the decision easier and he gave Charlotte his best smoldering look. She smiled back.

"Do you have a driver waiting?" Roy sipped his coffee and longed for a brandy.

"My son Bertram dropped me off on his way to a date. I thought I'd send for a cab, since he won't be home until dawn."

"No need for that, I have my sedan with me. Can't have a lovely woman at the mercy of our taxi services in late night Central."

"All right, but only if you promise to come in for a nightcap."

"Sounds delightful."

Charlotte reached for her handbag. "What are we waiting f-?"

"General Mustang?" Mrs Bradley's butler inserted himself quietly into the conversation. "An urgent telephone call, Sir. If you will follow me."

Alarmed, Roy flashed Charlotte an apologetic smile which she met with a rueful shrug of the shoulders. She had been a General's wife long enough to know business always came before pleasure. Roy followed the butler, Simmons, mentally chafing at his stately pace. He only just remembered to grab the cane. Limping was beyond him.

Simmons gestured to a telephone on the leather topped desk in a private study. He closed the door when he left.

"Mustang."

"Breda, Sir. Major Hawkeye is taking an elderly relative to the hospital. She wanted you to know right away, since you are an old friend of the family."

Riza Hawkeye's only living relative was her maternal grandfather, the Fuhrer himself, Old man Grummand. Roy was an old friend of the family, but he was also next in line should the old man step down. Or die. He had a surreal moment wondering if Riza was devoted to The Plan enough to poison her grandfather. Roy shook his head. She wouldn't have waited this long to do it.

"How bad is it?"

"Dunno. Bad enough she called me instead of you directly. Should I send a car?"

"No, I have mine with me. Let's keep this in the family until we have concrete facts."

"All under control, General." Breda already had clamped down on media, increased security at the hospital, and was running interference.

Roy breezed out of the mansion, leaving his apologies to Mrs. Bradley with Simmons. He was on base in record time.

Even in evening dress Roy was well known enough to have no trouble gaining access to the section of the hospital currently sealed off for the Furher's private use. "Cardiology?"

Kain Fuery trotted along beside him. "He was admitted with chest pains, Sir. They are running tests now."

Roy rubbed the spot between his eyes. "Who knows? Are we going to have a panic on our hands?"

"Major Hawkeye drove him over personally, Sir. He seemed in high spirits. I have already secured a line to Rush Valley if you want a second opinion."

"Yes, we might, depending on what they find. I wish those boys would hurry up and publish their imaging array." Roy and Fuery turned the corner into one of those ubiquitous alcove-like waiting rooms done in muddy greens. Hawkeye was sitting there with a thin sandy haired man. Incredibly, he was holding her hand. And she was allowing it.

Roy closed his mouth and shook his head to clear it. Fuery politely faded into the background, murmuring about checking for hidden microphones.

Composed as always, Hawkeye said, "General, allow me to present Dr. Black."

Black rose to shake Roy's hand. "Templeton Black. I've heard a lot about you, General Mustang. Sorry we aren't meeting under better circumstances."

"What circumstances are these, exactly? Are you treating the Fuhrer?" Roy shook his hand and glanced at Hawkeye, who seemed amused.

"What? No, I'm a veterinarian, as a matter of fact. I just came along for the ride, to provide moral support."

"Temp was my guest at dinner. He helped me carry the Fuhrer to the car."

Roy collapsed in the chair. "You showed up out of the blue with a beau and didn't think your grandfather would have heart failure?"

"Nonsense, he's known for weeks. He invited Temp personally."

"Not at all what one imagines about the Fuhrer," Black mused. "Far cry from Bradley. An improvement, I think."

"If you only knew," Roy muttered. "All right, what happened? Did you rule out poison? Who's in command at the Mansion? Who's guarding here?"

Hawkeye listed personnel all screened and approved by Roy's office, adding, "Although the symptoms started shortly after dinner Dr. Knox doesn't seem to think it is anything sinister."

"Looked like colic to me," Black offered. "If the Fuhrer were a dog, that is."

"Gallbladder, I think." Hawkeye said. "He had trouble before, a few years ago. But I wanted to make sure."

Roy hoped that was all it was. He was very fond of the old man. And this would not be a convenient time to try to take over and hold the country together. Dammit, Grummand was just going to have to lay off the pastries and booze and rule a few more years.

Knox himself delivered the good news. "Gall stones, but not serious. Going to keep him here over night and run some more test just because we have the opportunity."

"I'll give a statement that the Fuhrer was admitted for routine check up. We chose late at night as it was easier to implement the security measures." Roy took a slim cigarette case out of his breast pocket and opened it, revealing a pad and pencil. He started jotting notes for his speech.

"Papers go to press in an hour, Sir. I suggest a small official statement, buried on a secondary page."

"If anyone needs me I'll be trying to peer at my patient around the hulking bodies of his over protective body guards." Knox grumbled off, muttering about security goons and paranoia.

"I'll speak to them, Doctor." Hawkeye stood, smiling as Black scrambled to his feet as well. She patted his arm and followed Knox.

"Just so you know," Roy said casually to Black, not looking up from his scribbling. "I can melt a man's eyeballs from 40 feet away. Around a corner, even."

"General," Black said, sounding insulted. "She can shoot me from 100 yards and doesn't need your protection."

Roy flashed him a grin. "You are going to work out fine."

*

It wasn't until late the next day, while reading his announcement tucked into the society pages, that Roy remembered Charlotte. He sent 2 dozen roses and his regrets. She called and confirmed that Brigadier General Dornier had chivalrously rescued her and given her a ride home. Two months later the society pages had the announcement that Charlotte Murcheon nee Davis would be wedding Brigadier General Dornier in a small private ceremony.

Roy sent a pair of silver candlesticks and his best wishes and realized he was a lucky, lucky man.


End file.
